Transmission
by Whittle
Summary: A disturbing transmission has been received from the Space Station Atlantic. Suspecting a Xenomorph attack, Two teams from Section Security are sent out to investigate, along with an unwilling Alien hunter who realises they are the ones being hunted.
1. Call to Arms

This story has been around for a while now and I left it several chapters in when I rusted up and couldn't think of anything more to write. I hang my head in shame and apologize profusely for those that might have read it, especially Spacefan . I have finished the story now so there will be no disappearing act from me. I will try to upload all the chapters as soon as I can.

A Call to Arms

_Transmission pending from Section Eight _

_Transmission pending from Section Eight _

'Christ! Hey Adam, get that for us would you? I'm on the can'

_Transmission pending from Section Eight_

'Adaaaam! For fu…'

_Transmission pending from Section Eight _

'Alright, alright' rasped a voice from the kitchen.

Adam shuffled into the small communications bay holding two cups of synth brew in his hands and a biscuit poking out between his lips like a dry yellow tongue. He lazily glanced about him, taking in the familiar and austere room that he had worked in for six months. Previous shift workers had left their own personal touches via crushed soda tins and a collection of sinister stains on the console panels that would forever avoid being touched by any future residents. What was originally designed to be a clean and professional working space was nicknamed by the communications corps as The Hutch. Adam and Robert called it The Shit-Hole. Adam was quite sure that other shifts had re-christened it with similar names.

_Transmission pending from Section Eight,_ intoned the sterile synthesized female voice.

'Adam!' shouted Robert, still busy in the enclosure.

'Heard you the first time, Robbo.'

Adam stifled a yawn and stretched his arm over the plastic seats, his finger finally stabbing at the bleeping green pad on the panel.

'This is Section One. Give me your designated password Section Eight.'

Hissing static filled the room. Adam sighed and rested his feet on the console. Noting a piece of blue thread that had come loose on his jacket he began to twist it round his little finger.

'Yoo-hoo, Harry is that you?' No response. Adam sighed. 'S1 receiving your signal, give me your password please.'

Adam stared slack-jawed at the speakers as he heard a strange groaning, a gasp and then a whining sound which elevated into a high pitched scream. Adam snapped his jaw shut and jolted up from the chair. He pushed his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose and swallowed spit to sooth the sudden dryness in his throat.

'Section Eight, Atlantic…Are you alright? What the hell is going on there?'

A rotund figure burst out of the toilet pulling up his trousers, all the while staring at the speakers. 'What in Hell's name was that?' asked Robert.

Adam shook his head. 'Section Eight, respond! Is this a joke? What the fuck is going on there? Anybody… This is not funny…you know the protocol. Harry? Harry?'

A dull thud and some clattering filtered into The Hutch. The two temps glanced at each other. Robert managed a weary grin and Adam raised his eyebrows.

'He's pissing around again' said Robert, letting out a long sigh.

Atlantic's communications officer Harry Price was renowned for being a bit of a joker and on several occasions had managed to wind up most of the staff in Section One. Protocol seemed to take a backseat during his shifts and many had seen it as a nuisance that they didn't need or want, but Adam and Robert accepted his pranks good-naturedly, understanding that Harry's warped sense of humour was a product of being stuck on a space station for months on end. Boredom always seemed more prevalent in outer space.

'Yeah, it's definitely Harry, it's his shift' replied Adam. He rubbed his chin and frowned. Harry had told him on his last shift that he'd been docked credits after the Station received a complaint about his erratic behaviour and Adam had believed him. Maybe it was just another embellishment?

The next sound that crackled through the speakers wiped the knowing smiles from the temps' faces: a ghastly hissing crept through the empty space in the snug room. Adam felt an unwelcome burning across the sides of his face and wriggled his back in an attempt to shake off the cold shiver that ran down it.

'What was that?' whispered Robert, his hands hanging limply at either side of his unbuttoned trousers.

Adam remained silent and glassy eyed as the ghostly echoes from the transmission bounced through the room.

….

In the East wing of Communications, four men listened to the recording of the last transmission of S8.

One of the suited men turned toward Adam. He stroked the tip of his ginger beard and opened and shut his mouth repeatedly. Adam was reminded of a fish drowning in air and since he couldn't remember the man's name from the introductions, he decided to give him the nickname The Bearded Goldfish. On another occasion Adam might have smiled to himself but there was grave atmosphere in the meeting. Something had gone badly awry at the SS Atlantic and Adam was being questioned.

'This is the only thing you heard from the Atlantic?' asked The Bearded Goldfish.

'Yes. That was it, nothing else.' Adam fiddled with the right arm of his spectacles. The frame in his peripheral vision had been askew during his time in The Hutch and he realised that at some point he must have bent the arm—probably by sitting on it. He tried to stop his fidgeting, knowing that maybe now was not the best time to fix it, even though Adam suspected that these people had a tendency to evaluate staff in depth based purely on first impressions- they were the type to do so.

Adam continued with the half-hearted reparation, deciding that that the suits had probably already taken in the slumped shoulders and wonky glasses and decided that he was a man of little importance. Robert had been and gone, no doubt telling them what Adam was telling them now. He felt the thin metal arm strain under the intense pressure of his fingers and adjusted their correct position over his ears. A seated man beside the Goldfish wrinkled his nose at him. Corporate bastards, they're probably thinking of a way to pin the blame onto the small wages, thought Adam. He knew how this worked – the tighter the tie the more they designated blame. Responsibility was readily passed down as soon as night followed day. Adam gave up his struggle with his spectacles. The right arm would forever be faulty but it would have to do.

'And that was the first transmission from them in the last seventeen hours?' asked the thin man at the end of the table. Adam remembered his name clearly—Joseph. His permanent half-smile gave Adam the creeps. This was a man whose friends (if he had any) would never call him 'Joe' or 'Joey'.

'Yeah, pretty much. The last time they were on, they gave their supplies list and an order for some wrapping paper, sir.'

'Wrapping paper?' asked Joseph, the edges of his lips twitching.

'For a child's birthday party sir. Don't know who the child wa...'

'Right then. Fine, that's all Mr. Jones. We'll contact you if we need any more information.'

The thin man fussed with the sheets of paper in front of him. It took a few moments for him to realise that Adam was still standing there.

'Was there something else, Mr. Jones?'

Adam cleared his throat. A dry voice didn't convey authority. 'It's just… my brother is stationed at Atlantic, sir.' Adams straightened his back and allowed his facial muscles to relax – show no weakness, but let them know _you_ know.

Joseph's mercury grey eyes bore into Adam's. Adam stood stock still, feeling unnerved and guilty about a situation he had no control over. He averted his eyes, mostly in an attempt to avoid looking at the sinister and deeply unnerving grin on the thin man's face.

'We'll look into it,' said Joseph after a long pause.

Adam stiffened his spine and thrust his jaw up. He forced his gaze toward the thin man.

'I'm sure everything will be fine Mr. Jones. If we hear any news, we'll let you know' said Joseph, flashing a big smile before grasping his papers and tapping the ends on the table top. I'm sure you won't, thought Adam trying to keep down the bile creeping up from his stomach.

'Meeting adjourned' announced the goldfish, stroking the tip of his beard and taking another large gulping breath.

For the meantime, thought Adam, turning on his heel.

….

Joseph walked down the corridors of the Space Station Explorer—an ironic name given that the hulk of metal had stayed in its orbit around Earth for the past fifty years. He dodged around Technicians and Administrative pairs who bustled past him, gossiping about the day's minor events so far. Petty gripes about Stations' bureaucracy filled the air in the form of whispers. Joseph ignored it all. Most people didn't know what went on in the bowels of the bureaucracy that they pertained to know so much about. If they really knew, they invariably would wish they didn't.

Joseph turned his thoughts to more interesting avenues and the morning's interview. Ah, yes, the sudden beacon of distress from the Atlantic would give him the opportunity that he had been waiting for. With that one snippet of a scream, Joseph Palin knew that the Xenomorph's—creatures that had once been a universal pain to self-righteous vigilantes who were satisfied were rid of the threat, were back. He felt the excitement growing in his stomach, not for the creatures, but for the distraction they could provide.

Joseph approached a solid white door moulded with sharp angled squares and lines and pressed the bleeper.

There was a soft clunking sound as the door slid to the side. During the short trip through the labyrinth of white corridors, Joseph had already rehearsed what to say. No one but him knew of the body Atlantic scientists had found on the derelict space ship. No one but he and a handful of scientists at the Atlantic knew about the egg that accompanied it and of course, the other _item_.

Almost time to retire, thought Joseph Palin as he entered the white office. He allowed a smile for his superior.

….

Trista Crellin woke to the sound of incessant bleeping. She rolled across the rough sheets on her bed, swearing loudly, rubbing her eyes and then her scar ridged temple. She allowed a couple of seconds for her eyes to adjust slightly to the dark, to see the comforting grey hues in her apartment with their familiar and trusted shapes. As a habit she didn't activate the room's lights regularly as for years she had owed her survival to hiding within the shadows, and besides, her credit was low. Trista smashed her left fist down onto the pulsing light. The bleeping stopped.

'Crellin. Who is it?' she snarled. It was too early for calls. Whoever was on the other end of the com had better be the bearer of tough skin, she thought.

'Hello, Miss. Crellin. I'm sorry about the early call but really you should be up and insulting civilians this time in the morning.'

'Maxwell! Long time, no contact. What gives? C'mon Max, what the hell are you doing calling me at this time of the …?' with the first smatterings of half-sleep dissipating, Trista had a horrible feeling she knew exactly why he was calling…'No!' Absolutely not!'

'You haven't heard what I'm going to say yet' responded Max, emphasizing a hurt tone.

'Don't need to. I'm not doing it.'

'Just wanted to know if you wanna meet up – you know, for old time's sake?'

'Bollocks, you don't call someone at four twenty in the morning for beers and nostalgia. Go away. I won't do it…whatever it is' hissed Trista.

'You're the best Alien hunter in S-Seven.'

'Cheers! I'm surrounded by families and office ferrets. Nice to know I'm legend in that area in comparison with them. Besides which, it's 'I was hunted by Aliens', not the other way round. I'm now part of the boring, smart majority; you know the kind of people that don't risk their lives for thankless tasks.'

Trista heard a soft sigh from the speaker. 'C'mon, there's still a part of you that wants the excitement, the glory…the teeth'

'It's because of the excitement and glory, as you put it, that a part of me is missing' countered Trista, glancing down at the stump where her right arm used to be. 'That was one time only and I did it because back then I was stupid, no more, no less. NO!'

She groaned and looked at the shiny metal band attached around the top half of where her arm used to be. What she wouldn't give to use her fingers to gesture at her comms panel right now.

'Oh come on, you've admitted more than once that you prefer your prosthetic and besides, I'd rather have your lethally armed with me in case we meet some of your old friends' said Max. Pleading had invaded his tone now.

'What are you going for, you dumb sh...Hang on; I thought the powers that be were happy that the Xeno's had been wiped out?'

'They were, well kind of, but something's happened at the Atlantic. You were right and they were wrong, at least they suspect they were wrong although they'd never admit it. You could join us and gloat if you like?'

'You volunteered, Max?' Trista knew this wasn't true. Nobody in the Section Security force had a choice.

'As always' replied Max, chuckling. 'I got promoted to Sergeant.'

'Really?'

'Yeah, I can tell you all about it over drinks tomorrow.'

'You mean today' sighed Trista massaging the flesh around the metal stump with her remaining hand. She looked at the clock again, hissed and gritted her teeth. It was no surprise Max called this early. Tactically speaking, anyone could persuade her into turmoil when she wasn't fully awake. She'd been drawn in yet again. It wasn't fear that made her hesitate, although anyone would be stupid not to feel that emotion. She'd battled these demons in the dark, but she knew there was more than Xenomorphs out there, and that particular enemy was armed to the hilt and they were the real reason she never wanted to go back. She arranged to meet Max and signed off.

Trista sat at the edge of the bed staring at the custom made artificial arm propped up on the artificial fire surround. Two minutes was all it took for her to be suckered in. Suppressing another yawn, she reached up to her neck and tugged gently at the necklace of sharp incisors she had collected from her last trip.


	2. The Nightmare

The Nightmare.

Trista took a seat in the back corner of the café, overlooking the rest of the seated customers. She stole a look to a man half hidden behind a news panel. The computer's flat rectangular shape obscured the lower half of his face; the upper portion housed brittle blue eyes that conveyed a look of disgust when he looked at Trista. She had encountered this many times before. With the vertical scar travelling down her neck to her collarbone and the mottled slash of skin colour from a semi-healed burn running down the right side of her face, her appearance wasn't one that instilled comfort in the gawkers, only a look that said she shouldn't be here and they were probably right. It was the knowing looks that irked the most.

The worst offender in the eyes of the vanity brigade was the alloy metal prosthetic that inhabited a place where her fleshy, normal arm used to be. Kids pointed and their guardians sneered before shuffling their spawn onwards. She pursed her lips and turned her head to gaze directly at the man. She gave him a smile – the kind of genial grin that allowed them to know their stares were being noted. The gawker quickly turned his attention back to the news panel.

'Haven't you ever thought about using Folli-Color to cover up the white streaks?' asked a sandy haired man approaching the table. He was thick set and had deep set pale blue eyes. A gentle smile spread across his strong jaw as he took Trista's left hand and shook vigorously, his eyes glancing at the white peeking out through Trista's brown hair.

'Do you like having the use of your tongue, Max?'

'How are you?'

'Older, aching and still pissed off that you contacted me. You?'

'I'm a father of a three month old boy'

'Alice dropped another one? That woman has a pain threshold higher than any other being in the system.'

'You're a grouch' said Max, wagging his finger.

'I'm just concerned that there's more of you running around is all. Does Alice realise what she's let loose on the unsuspecting public? Is she well?'

'She's fine. She hates me going off like this though.'

'Can't say I blame her.'

'Don't lecture, please, I get enough of that from Alice.'

Max turned to the table dispenser and tapped in a set of numbers. Two decaffeinated coffees appeared a moment later in paper cups. Trista grabbed the cup and stared at the liquid contained within. Her sigh carried across the room.

'So have I been assigned yet?

'The Commander is sorting it out'

'And what is your Commander like?'

'I've known of some people describe her as the ultimate bitch. She gets the job done though.'

'I like her already. What do _you_ think of her?'

'Haha, no comment.'

'Spoken like a true politician.'

'Ouch! Anyway departure is at Oh eight hundred tomorrow.'

'Now you're just flirting' Trista purred and batted her eyelids. As she did so she caught the man across the room staring again.

'If you're refused assignment the Commander will let you know tonight.'

'So if I hear nothing, I turn up tomorrow and that's it?'

'Pretty much. Very little red tape with this one. Here's a list of items you can take with you. Notice it doesn't include weapons.'

Trista quickly scanned the small screen and snorted.

'Xeno's have no exterior genitalia to kick that I've found. I'll be bringing weapons with me.'

'You'll be issued a pulse-…'

'The bog-standard crap. Fine, fine. I'm assuming this won't be a problem?' Trista manoeuvred her arm to the side in the direction of the suited man who was staring over his console. She lifted up the metal attachment and with a flick of her shoulder a twelve inch blade rocketed out from the metallic forearm. To Max, it looked like an extremely threatening rude gesture to the man behind the console. He thought so too and quickly hid his face behind the panel.

'Still got a short fuse I see' said Max pointing at the prosthetic.

'It's one of my better qualities.' Trista flicked her shoulder back and the blade sheathed itself with a rusty snap.

'You never did tell me how you lost your arm' said Max staring at the appendage.

'No I didn't' replied Trista with a grin.

Max waited for a few seconds and gave a brief, resigned nod when it was clear Trista wasn't going to speak anymore about it.

For the next couple of hours a few sparse details about the mission were exchanged. Trista clenched her jaw when Max described Atlantic's personnel as family units – mostly scientists and their kids. She had heard of the Atlantic Space Station but had forgotten that it had families there.

A few milky coffees later, a brief smack on the back ended the meeting. Trista watched as her old friend exited the café. She collected the empty paper cups, threw them in recyclables and strolled toward the exit, giving a little wave to the suited man behind the panel as she did so.

….

Trista made sure she got an early night. There was no call and that meant tomorrow she would leap into the fire pit. She needed a good night's rest. She stared at the foil sealed container in her hand and sighed. One of the better things about the painkillers she was prescribed for the ache in her shoulder was the drowsiness that accompanied them. With her prosthetic lying carelessly on the bedside cabinet and her head burrowed in the pillow, Trista swiftly fell into unconsciousness.

Her dreams took her back fifteen years – back on the Saturn, back in the military. She remembered chasing down a Xenomorph. Her dreams were inconsistent though…in every corner she could see the shiny black tip of the head, then the blackness seemed to split apart to reveal a white grin. The Xeno's jaw opened revealing the hidden horror: a new set of teeth accompanied with a resounding hiss that she could feel ripple along her flesh. _Kill them at distance; don't let them bleed on you_. She kicked out hard, sending her attacker sliding across the blood-slick corridor. Trista had the tools and the creature quickly fell with one burst of light. Limping toward the body, she knelt beside her dead foe and prised its jaws open. With a deft flick of her hip blade, she separated the inner mouth from its host. She had learned with experience that after a time, the acidic blood of the creature neutralized but even in her dreams she knew that there was no discernable reason to take a part of it but of course, there was always revenge. They had taken her team one by one and she wanted to do the same to them. She held up her trophy and regarded it in the dull light.

Suddenly _it_ was there. She hadn't even seen _it_ coming till it was too late. She swung the gun around and aimed. She heard the sound of a blade slicing through the air and a smack of pressure on her shoulder. Then she felt the massive clawed hand grabbing her neck and lifting her till she could barely touch the ground with her toes. Her watery vision could make out a solid grey coloured mask, grooved and pocked, hiding a face she knew she would not want to see, the mask had blood splatter on it which became unfocused as her eyesight dimmed - she was being choked to death. Growling and clicking rang in her ears until it became so excruciating it felt as though her ear drums would burst. She couldn't breathe. Trista tried hitting out, smacking her trophy against her new attacker. The dizziness stopped and she slumped to the floor. It took a moment to realise the armoured monolith had grabbed the trophy from her hand. With blurry eyes, Trista watched as the creature stared at the Alien's inner mouth. Her attacker tilted its head and swung the macabre object with full force against the grey walls. There was a sickening crack and in her hazy memories, heightened with vibrancy in the dream, Trista felt the fingers on her left hand being prised open and then closed again. The warm and sharp touch of the new threat left her hand and the creature bolted upward and turned quickly. In a moment _it_ was gone, and Trista was left with a ringing in her ears and a handful of alien teeth. She heard voices in the distance and forced her head around to see who it was. She felt her head swimming and an overwhelming ringing in her ears.

Trista woke to the sound of the clock alarm, feeling wretched. With her remaining arm she shut off the irritating noise and sat up. Her shirt was doused in sweat and every muscle hurt. Instinctively she reached for the tooth necklace, running her finger over the sharp points.

She dragged herself into the bathroom and looked at the pale reflection staring back at her in the mirror. With one hard slap across her cheek, she was fully awake and angry at herself. What the hell had she agreed to?


	3. Section Eight

Section Eight.

Trista arrived outside the base forty minutes early, deciding that was always best to check out the trap before you walked right into it. She winced at the thought of yet another battle, realizing she had broke the promise to herself that she wouldn't do this again and yet here she was trying to help a friend in need. She felt pessimism sweep through her thoughts. Maybe this time she wouldn't survive, maybe it would be the Saturn all over again. A worse thought wriggled in her brain like a hungry maggot: What if she couldn't help Max? Others had put their trust in her before. Why should this time be any different?

Security at the gates consisted of two young soldiers who kept their gazes trained on Trista, shuffling their feet and twitching their fingers. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to arrive early. She felt angry again, the least Max could have done was pick her up but then he was probably still clinging onto his wife and children, telling them not to worry. She felt a pang of envy and felt immediately guilty. It was entirely her choice, this life, nobody else's, just hers. She'd made her bed and had no one else to lie in it with her. She had preferred it that way.

Max arrived within ten minutes of Trista's arrival. Upon seeing his familiar face, the guards ceased their nervous pacing. Trista allowed herself a wry grin as she saw their shoulders drop slightly.

'Knew you'd be here early' bellowed Max by way of a greeting. 'Here's your pass. Come on, I'll show you around.'

'I'm surprised I wasn't refused' said Trista as they passed through the gates. She instantly saw the evasive look on her friends face. 'Okay, what is it?'

'Commander Bennet hasn't received an answer yet. We're still waiting' Max explained sheepishly.

'Great, so this could be a wasted trip?'

'I'm sure it'll be fine. You're not the only guest tagging along and he was literally thrown into the mix. Don't look at me like that, it was his request. Anyway, I want you to see where I work. There have been changes since you were last here and we have to get you kitted up to look like the rest of us shit bags'

Twenty minutes elapsed as Trista continued to give polite nods at the refurbished base. It hadn't changed that much, just prettied up and new technology added. The uniform she was given was annoying, mostly because it had a tendency to snag on her arm's blade shaft and the thick armor restricted movement. Trista had already decided to dump the protection once she was on the Atlantic. There were times when all you could do was run, and to be hindered by a many pounds of metal wasn't an option.

Within forty minutes, Trista had been introduced to the military team she might be tagging along with. They filtered into the hanger in small groups. This was obviously a two-team mission – that wasn't good. Obviously the evidence of a Xenomorph attack was strong – they never sent out more than a small group. Someone was sure of the alien intrusion at the Atlantic.

Trista kept alert, watching those who watched her. She adopted her 'nice to meet you, don't want to be here smile' and nodded along with Max's introductions. She had already categorized the soldiers by personalities she either disliked or tolerated. Private Trent ensured he was in the former by asking his companion in a not-so-low whisper who the shuttle crash of a woman was.

He was nothing in comparison to Commander Bennet. She swept into the hangar, her curly black hair clipped neatly away from her face. She was smaller than Trista by several inches and had an air of smugness about her. She gave Trista a look of barely disguised contempt. Trista added a new category –despicable.

'So you'rethe _legend_ Sergeant Jones talks about?' said Bennet, being careful to shake Trista's real hand. She gripped it tightly. 'It's funny, I've never heard of you.'

'I'm sure Max…Sergeant Jones' tendency to exaggerate…' Trista gave him a sidelong glance '…won't tempt you to put me on a pedestal, Commander.' She shot the woman an engaging smile designed to try and piss her off.

'Believe me it won't' Bennet retorted. 'I'm sure the sergeant has briefed you on the situation.'

Trista opened her mouth to answer and shut it again as Bennet continued.

'I'm not waiting for a suit to give me the green light on _you_. If it were up to me you'd stay. I don't want _civilians_ putting my squad in danger.'

'That's fine by me' replied Trista through gritted teeth.

'However, your presence has been approved and apparently your experience might come in useful. Alternatively if you're no good to us, we can always use you as live bait.' Bennet gave a predatory grin and released Trista's hand. 'Peters, are we ready to go?'

'Whenever you're ready commander' said a tall blond man next to the shuttle.

Bennet swiftly turned her back to Trista and motioned both squads to board The Talisman and The Sentinel – sturdy military crafts which were designed solely for practicality.

Trista stared after Bennet and almost didn't notice as Max sidled up next to her. 'I guess you're now part of the 'some people' gang?'

'I can handle people like her' said Trista through gritted teeth. 'It's just a pity it can't be with my right hand' she added, flexing her clunky metal fingers.

Each member of the troupe was already in their assigned seats on the shuttle. Trista boarded The Sentinel and took a place in one of the spare seats at the end of the group. Max sat toward the front section opposite Bennet. A lean and handsome bespectacled man sat opposite Trista. He was dressed in standard issue uniform and looked extremely worried. Trista decided he was the other 'guest', probably from Finances division. No doubt checking that no one military scoundrel damaged the sector's expensive science equipment. He gaped slack jawed at her for some time before turning away to stare at the back of the shuttle's wall.

For the rest of the trip to Section Eight, Trista ignored the curious and sometimes amused gazes of the soldiers and instead rested her head back against the cool panels of the shuttle and closed her eyes. One way to avoid conversation (arguments) with people was to give them the impression you were asleep and so the journey passed as Trista listened to each of the groups' voices, quickly able to single them out and gauge their position. Another plus point about having your eyes closed was that people let their guard down and after a while raised their voices above a whisper and so Trista learned more about the mission than anyone would willingly have told her, although that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

…..

They approached the Atlantic within four hours of set-off. Trista pretended to wake, blinked a couple of times and yawned 'Are we there yet?'

'Nice to see you've joined the land of the living, Crellin' barked the Commander 'did you have nice dreams, or did you learn a little more about the mission whilst you pretended to?'

Trista nodded slowly, smiling to herself whilst the group burst out laughing. The commander was a bitch, but damn she was smart. She looked over at Max who shrugged and grinned. Bennet unhooked her shoulder straps and grabbed a helmet from one of the hooks overhead. She turned and rolled it along the floor toward the man with the glasses. He looked up in confusion and tentatively picked it up. Trista caught her helmet as it flew through the air at her. She glared at Bennet who raised her eyebrows and gave a slight smile.

'We'll all be wearing these. Do not take them off at any time, unless specifically told to by me. If I see you take off your armor, I'll be showing you exactly why you shouldn't have. Is that clear?'

Trista and the other guest glanced at each other, before giving a terse nod at Bennet.

The Sentinel touched down with a bump. So far, so smooth, thought Trista taking a deep breath.

The pilot gave the all clear to exit the craft and then the shuffling and swearing started. The Talisman, containing Team B was to dock at Bay five, whilst The Sentinel docked at Bay Two. The pulse-rifles led the way out, strapped onto the bulky torsos of Trent and Presnik.

Behind them, Lieutenant Gray cradled a motion tracker, his visor touched by the green hue of its neon map. Trista was the second to last to exit the shuttle, following behind Max and the slim guy with glasses and followed by Private Janet Murray. They trod cautiously across the light grey floors – no battle scars here! The only sound in the large and mostly empty room was the familiar blip-blip of the tracker and the hushed directions of Lieutenant Gray. When the team approached the double exit doors of the landing bay, Commander Bennet strode purposefully up to the Lieutenant. Although her voice was muffled under the helmet, Trista could make out every word.

'Change to wide, see if it's clear on two hundred.'

Gray nodded and tapped upon a few sensors on the tracker. Everyone stood in their place for a minute, Trent and Presnik stood with knees bent, burdened by their heavy weapons and snapping their heads back and forth. Trent glanced back, his eyes a picture of utter concentration behind his visor. His ready-to-go pose among the austere but nonthreatening interior made Trista snort a laugh before attempting to cover it up with a cough. Bennet, Gray and Max immediately turned to look at her.

'Well, if there was anything here, they probably would have heard us by now' said Bennet staring at Trista.

'Doesn't seem to be any civvies…or anything bigger than' said Gray. His voice was tinny in the helmet.

Trista watched the young man tip his head to the side. He emitted a soft grunt as his neck cracked. It brought back bad memories for Trista who stared after the Lieutenant. She couldn't believe how much younger they seemed to be recruiting nowadays They were lambs to the slaughter she thought, but lambs that packed the kind of arsenal that would have the wolves shitting themselves.

'Right then, let's move on apace. We'll get to the comms. room and then check the rest of the wing. Since they still have power, I'm assuming whatever happened here would have been recorded by the cameras' hissed Bennet 'Grey, keep on checking. Trent, Presnik, Murray: watch your backs, stay aware. Ms. Crellin…'

'I'll be quiet' interrupted Trista.

'Try… you don't want our deaths on your hands, do you?' spat the commander.

Max caught Trista's look and raised his eyebrows at her.

Bennet moved over to the Bay doors. As she stood in front of the sensors, the heavy panels slid open.


	4. The Thing in the Corridor

The Thing in the Corridor

Some of the team jumped as the doors clunked into place, revealing a bright and empty corridor.

'They've got the doors on auto-sensor' said Bennet in a querulous tone.

'Probably just for the bay doors. If they were planning to run, then they wouldn't want to hang around waiting for the door to scan their retinas. Especially when they've seen what they're being chased by' said Trista. Bennet glared at her, causing Trista to hold up her hands. 'I'll be quiet.'

The corridors were long and showed visibility up to each door to the left and to the right. The communications rooms were located to the right and was their first stop and so Presnik and Trent led the way, quickened in pace by the commander. Trista shuffled up to Max, whose eyes peered out of his visor. He glanced up every so often to the power conduits than ran overhead.

'Are the motion tracker's reliable?' whispered Trista.

Max turned his wary gaze to the ventilation shafts. 'They're a lot better than they used to be. They can pinpoint any size you programme them to detect within five hundred metres.'

'But the further out you check…'

'The fuzzier it gets' finished Max. 'I wouldn't worry; it's ninety-nine per cent accurate.'

'What about the other one per cent? Trista asked, raising a cynical eyebrow.

'Usually down to Human error. Stop worrying, you're making me nervous.'

The group halted a few metres from the first door. Gray nodded to Bennet who nodded to Presnik. He took a few steps forward with Trent. The doors whirred into action so smoothly and quickly that it was a second to late for Gray to notice the Alien parasite leap from the ceiling through the gap and onto his helmet. There was a crack and a scream.

'Fuck! Grab it!' yelled Trent.

'What the hell?' shouted Trista running up to the fallen figure of Gray. He had his hands clenched around the bulk of the Parasite, straining to pull it off his visor. As he did so, its meaty tail snapped around his exposed neck under the helmet. Bennet was the first to wriggle her fingers between the tail and the flesh. The ridged muscle gave way a little. Max was next to grip the fleshy cord. In response the lower tail section wrapped itself tighter around Gray's neck. Trista watched in horror as the parasite pushed its pulsating body further into the shattered visor.

'It's strangling him. Hurry before it's too late' she cried, fixing her metal fingers around the bottom half of the tail. Grey's arms fell to his side, he was unconscious.

'Another one!' screamed Murray, shooting at a translucent parasite which scuttled frantically along the wall behind them. Trista winced as she saw the corridor light up 'Got it!' Murray cried.

Trista managed to get some leverage on the tail and carefully unwound the bottom half, but Bennet's hands slipped off the moist film covering the parasite's body and it renewed its grip.

'Damn it, hurry up, it's gonna kill him!' yelled Trent, backing up behind Bennet.

Trista and Max managed to separate the lower half of the tail from Gray's throat when Trista felt a smack on the back of her helmet. Automatically, she threw both her arms back. Trista let out a gasp of horror as she watched spindly cream legs wrap across her visor which was quickly steaming up with her quick breaths. It took a few fumbling moments before she managed to grip the parasite on the back of her head. It was secure in her grasp but thrashed its tail sideways like a whip which kept slapping the side of her helmet. She moved next to Murray, who jumped back in disgust at the sight of the writhing parasite. 'Shit, they're everywhere. Ok, I'm ready.'

Trista nodded to the body of the other parasite melting into the floor and flung the spidery creature toward it. The snapping noise of pulse rounds put an end to the parasite's second attempt. It was only when she turned back to Gray's predicament that she saw Trent slice into the Parasites' tail with a pocket laser.

'NO!' she screamed. It was too late. The parasite bled.

Max and Bennet seemed to come awake at the sound. They both leapt back at the hissing and smoking that came from the wound. Bennet turned on Trent.

'What have you done?'

'It was killing him' growled Trent, taking a step back. 'Oh, shit man.'

The group watched as a stream of Gray's blood flowed from under the parasite's tail. It gathered on a sticky smoking pool of red and yellow that began to melt into the floor.

'He's dead' said Trista, staring at the prostate body of Gray.

'Trent, keep watch Godamnit!' snapped Bennet.

Trent turned back to the corridor, groaning and swearing.

'Shoot it' said Trista, looking at Bennet.

Max turned to her 'It's still on his face' he hissed with gritted teeth.

'His neck is almost gone. He's dead… SHOOT IT!'

Bennet already had her hand gun out. The blast echoed through the corridor.

'We'll come back to him later. Let's go' Bennet snarled, turning to Trent and shoving him forward. 'Go on.'

Bennet collected the magazines and motion detector from the dead man. She carefully scanned his ID Implant and strode on behind Trent, who was quietly muttering to himself. The commander pressed a button on the side of the wireless Headcom and related their position and situation to Team B in a wavering but loud voice.

Max gripped tightly onto his rifle and looked at Trista with eyes filled with confusion and defiance. Trista's expression remained as stone. It was kill or be killed, even Bennet understood that. There was no time to grieve for the dead and the young man was just that. Gray hadn't even got to see the real horror of what they were facing and Trista saw it as a small mercy he didn't. At least he got to die whilst he was unconscious. Most of the team, she feared, would die screaming.

She scanned the corridor they were leaving, half seeing Murray walk backwards past her, holding her pulse gun high.

'We have to go' said Murray, a bead of sweat slithering down her forehead.

'Right' said Trista, rubbing her temples. She looked down at Grey, still with the dead parasite clutched to his face in a state of Rigor Mortis. Its transparency had waned and it was now an off white. Gray's hands were quickly following suit, his mottled fingers curled slightly almost in a beckoning gesture, it would be the last visible movement Gray would make. Trista looked away and saw the man with glasses tight up against the corridor wall. Both his hands were shaking. With all the commotion and the ensuing tragedy, she completely forgot about the guest. He stood with his back to the wall, jaw hanging open. He didn't once take his eyes off the parasite on Gray's face.

Trista wandered up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. He flinched and let out a gasp.

'Hey, are you alright?' Trista knew it was a stupid question; he was clearly scared out of his wits.

'Yuh…yeah. No. Oh God that thing…' The man pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stole another look at the parasite.

'What's your name?'

'Er…um…Adam. My name's Adam' he gasped.

'Right, so that's one mystery solved. I'm Trista.'

'Yeah, the Tooth Fairy…' Adam teeth clicked hard as he clamped his jaw shut. He immediately switched his gaze from the gruesome scene to Trista and winced.

Trista raised her eyebrows.

'The other soldiers, they were talking…I mean. I think I might have heard it somewhere' stuttered Adam.

'Don't worry. It's better than some of the other names I've been called' said Trista, giving Adam a warm smile and placing him in the category next to Max. 'Come on, let's go.' She patted Adam on the back and walked with him toward Murray, who waited a little further on.

Trista turned her back to the body and stepped through the doors. As she got a few metres of the exit, she heard the low drone of the panels slip back into place. The hairs on the back of neck stood up as she heard another noise – a subtle clicking from the corridor she had come from.

She turned and saw a shimmer of air sweep around Gray's body. Trista blinked, shook her head and continued after the team.


	5. The Comms Room

The Communications Room

Trista left Adam to walk alongside Murray and shuffled up next to Max. They exchanged a weary look and walked down the corridor in silence. Trent was a few paces ahead, seemingly alert. Trista caught the sight of his shoulders drop every now and then and clenched her jaw. Regardless of the stupidity of Trent, Trista felt something akin to pity for him. He was quick to action when needed, but the death of a comrade, especially one he would have worked with for years, was something that you could never forget. The stain on his hands wasn't something that could be washed off easily. No, she blamed the Commander. It was her responsibility to make sure that her team were well informed about the enemy, especially an enemy as ruthless as the Xenomorphs.

Although the xeno's hadn't been seen for over a decade and information on them was scarce, they were nevertheless a certainty, like bacteria. Trista had herself given detailed descriptions of her encounters with these aliens, time and time again - _but not the other kind_, whispered a guilty voice in her head. Maybe she should have mentioned something about the others, but after the reception that greeted her after her escape from the Xeno's on the Saturn, she really didn't want to say any more to anyone. Trista stared at the back of the commander's head and quickly replaced the guilty feeling with one of frustration. There was some things that people under your command ought to know and Bennet hadn't told them. No doubt the commander had glossed over the reports and decided that the potential foes were simply animals lined up for the slaughter. None of this team had been in contact with this enemy as they were either too young or too lucky. Trista always approached the unknown as if it were something that wanted to rip you apart, because she had learnt from experience that most of the time; the unknown would do just that.

They arrived at the meet up point at the facility's Communication Centre. The room was a large hexagonal space, its interior colour scheme keeping with standard space core colours-namely white. In usual circumstances this would have made the Science station look clinically pristine. However, the recurring patterns of blood splatter on the wall made it look more like a slaughterhouse. Team B had already settled in, checking their ammo and occasionally peering at the gruesome décor with foreboding looks etched across their faces. Trista was the first in her group to take her helmet off. She made sure she was standing behind Bennet before swiftly unlocking her chest and back plates, placing them surreptitiously behind one of the consoles. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Adam staring directly at his feet, avoiding the reminder that a fight was lost. Trista understood perfectly. Each darkened stain on the wall conjured up the image of an imagined peoples failing to continue their survival. She trained her gaze onto the control panel, the long back chairs and then to the vents and other doorways out of the room. It was always a good idea to know exactly where the exits where, or where exactly your enemy could enter. Even with the barrage of highly trained personnel at her side, Trista felt a cold shiver sweep through her veins.

She watched casually as Bennet conversed in low tones to Lieutenant Price heading Team B. They glanced over to Trista a couple of times before heading over to the main console. The rest of the two teams spoke amongst themselves, sharing banter and stories of normal times. It was the way. It looked to Trista like the other team had managed to avoid confrontation, at least for the time being. Some part of her was envious of this. No matter how many times you see a comrade fall, it never got any easier. She glanced over to a solitary figure next to the door. Private Trent stood motionless, his glassy gaze trained on the wall opposite him.

Trista walked over to the bloodstains. She couldn't be sure, but from what she remembered of the Xenomorphs, they wouldn't kill potential hosts, just stun them. Most of her squad had been taken that way – most of them. She shook her head violently in an attempt to avoid the memory. As she did so, her eye caught an area of splattered scarlet trailing up the wall like flicked paint. On closer inspection she noticed a couple of deep parallel grooves indented in the wall amongst the dark red. She jumped as Commander Bennet's raised voice began issuing orders behind her.

'Chan, Jones, Murray. I want you to go collect Sam and take that fucking thing off his face. Keep your Headcoms on at all time' said Bennet.

Trista gave the commander a look of disbelief. 'Are you intentionally trying to reduce the numbers in your squad?' she hissed.

Bennet's expression was calm. 'We've set the M.T.'s for the parasites. Something we overlooked before…'

'Overlooked!'

'…and the systems scan…' Bennet nodded tersely at the console '…is showing that there's nothing else in this wing and before you say anything else, Crellin, may I remind you that I'm in charge here and I still have use of all my limbs.' Bennet snapped her head around and gave a sharp nod at the waiting soldiers.

'Gray has lost use of everything' Trista muttered within earshot.

As the soldiers exited the room, Bennet twisted sharply to face Trista. 'A word in your ear, Crellin' she sighed pointing to an empty corner of the room. Trista caught Max's grimace. She followed after Bennet.

'Why the hell are you here?' whispered Bennet, staring at Trista.

'I thought Max had persuaded you that my assistance would be useful' replied Trista with a wry grin.

'Yeah…yeah, he did, but I've looked over your record. What I want to know is why the suits would want you here. Didn't you lose your entire team the last time you encountered these creatures?' Bennet crossed her arms as the edges of her mouth twitched.

Trista clenched her jaw. She ached to use her blade. There was something about the smug appearance of Bennet that made her want to carve her cruel grin wider. 'That was beyond, well beyond my control. We didn't know what we were dealing with back then' she growled 'you have no excuse!'

'No, I have _you_. Whoopee! You know… what really confuses me is why, after your record has been seen by those who made the decision to send us, why they agreed to let a cripple tag along?' asked Bennet, edging her face closer to Trista's.

Trista stared down at the woman and clenched her fist. She took a deep breath and allowed Bennet to stalk past her. She couldn't answer her because she had no answer to give and it was a question she'd asked herself on several occasions. Max may have wanted her help, but she couldn't understand how she'd been given the green light after the grilling she had about her very last mission and the damage she was blamed for. She shut her eyes and listened as Bennet barked orders to some of the team and questioned the trio's situation on Headcom.

Trista shuddered. Bennet had a rasping voice that grated on Trista and made her tense up. She tried to relax her right shoulder. One wrong twitch and the blade would be unsheathed and then Trista would need little excuse to use it. She looked around the room again to try and provide distraction from murderous thoughts.

Her eyes rested on Private Winter, a short genial looking soldier with a sharp face. He sat in front on one of the consoles with the Station Scanner log onscreen. Bennet lurked behind him along with Adam. Trista was surprised when she heard Adam speak to Winter.

'…there's no one here? Are you sure?'

Bennet tapped Winter on the shoulder and pointed to an area of the screen. 'Check the Generator rooms and arboretums, they can sometimes block signals.'

'Nothing in the generators, commander' replied Winters, looking confused. 'They could be in the arboretum though. I'm not getting any signal in that area, but you couldn't fit all the Stations crew in there but still, there's a always a possibility.'

Trista watched as Adam bowed his head and slipped quietly to the other side of the room.

Private Winter continued his search and had accessed the Stations security systems. He methodically looked through the visual security recordings. A small crowd had converged around him, including Trista, who was tall enough to look over the heads of some of the soldiers. The images showed people in their work clothes eating in the canteen, families converging outside the Theatre for what looked to be a production of A Christmas Carol according to the poster on one of the paused images. There was a crèche, a Virtual park, several recreation rooms, a school, a mall. They fast forwarded to the day of the distress call, paying particular attention to the room in which they stood now. They sped up to the hour before the transmission was sent. The screen went black.

'What's going on?' asked Bennet.

'Don't know Commander. It's just…I dunno. Looks like it might have been wiped. I'll try another room' replied Winter.

They accessed most areas of the Atlantic and got the same blank screen. Bennet turned to Trista. 'In your experience, have you ever known the Xenomorphs to access computers and erase files?'

The question was razor edged with sarcasm.

'No, usually they like to search for Interstellarnet porn' said Trista. This coaxed out a few chuckles from the team and a scowl from the Commander. Trista couldn't even manage a wan smile with her quip. She had a bad feeling about this whole scenario.

The diversion was short lived as Bennet's Headcom crackled. The voice on the other end was brittle with panic.

'Murray, what's your situation?'

'We're at corridor six, Commander' said the tinny voice 'I don't understand…'

'Just…calm down. Have you got Gray?'

'No, we haven't. We've got the right coordinates...'

'Just bring him back and hurry. If you suspect Xenomorph activity, leave him and return. Do you understand?'

'There's nothing here Commander' breathed Murray.

'What are you talking about?'

'He's not here. No Gray, no parasite. He's gone. Sam's body is gone'


	6. The Arboretum

The Arboretum

The room fell into silence. Trista studied the face of Bennet whose expression remained emotionless. It was an unwritten procedure to never let your team see any cracks in your mental armour. That being, Trista knew Bennet _was_ worried, her silence spoke volumes. She seemed to snap back into the present when Murray's voice crackled over the speaker.

'Commander?'

'Get yourselves back…Now!' Bennet turned to Winters and covered her microphone. 'Get the scanners back up, check for life forms – any life forms. Make it quick.'

Winters nodded and turned to the console. Bennet shot a brief look at Trista before uncovering the microphone. 'Murray, we're checking the section now. Keep aware, look out for corners, vents…you know the drill. Do you copy?'

'Affirmative, Commander. Shall we keep comms. on?'

'Yes, we'll keep you open this end' said Bennet. She furrowed her brow and turned to Trista with a questioning look, which she answered with a small shrug of the shoulders.

This kind of Xeno behaviour was a new one on Trista. From what she'd witnessed, the aliens wouldn't let any deceased victims go to waste, after all they had to eat, but they would never have taken the body whole. Carrying it in pieces was easier and ensured that several of their kind could gorge. It was a lethal democracy, a loyalty to its own species without greed or ego but this was something new. The Xenomorphs piecemeal recovery would have left trails and they should at the very least have been spotted on the Motion Trackers.

'Commander' barked private Winters. He looked curiously at the Station's scanner and clicked his tongue.

'You got something?'

'I'm not sure. Nothing conclusive…I dunno, it's looks funny. There seems to be movement around this area.' Winters pointed at a section two floors above the corridor where the three soldiers were traversing. 'It comes and goes though, doesn't make any sense.' He frowned and shook his head. 'There's nothing there now but….no…look there.'

Trista hurried over and stood just outside of the small group which was forming around the console. Everyone stared at a small blip which pulsated rapidly toward a large room near the end of the wing, away from the soldiers. Just as suddenly as it appeared, the lone light bleeped off again.

'Murray?' Bennet spoke softly into the microphone. 'State your position.'

'We're approaching the Comms. room commander, about 50 metres.'

'Roger that, we can see you on the scan.' Bennet rubbed her temples, her face a picture of relief.

The rest of the team exhaled as the Murray and her two companions entered the room. Bennet conversed with Murray for a few seconds before turning to Trista. 'Any explanations?'

Trista looked at the expectant faces surrounding her. 'The scanners are calibrated to detect all life forms – including Xeno's…I mean Xenomorphs?' she asked.

'It detects difference in light movement; scanner plates placed across the station will pick up anything moving across their path if their colour has even the slightest difference to the ships surroundings. It's basic but it works' said Winters.

Trista sighed. She felt a shiver creeping up her spine. 'If you were to place, say – a mirror in front of the panels would that…' Trista struggled to find the correct ending to that query.

'Screw up the readings?' finished Winters. 'Possibly…but'

'Are you saying Xenomorphs are carrying mirrors around with them?' snapped Bennet 'You didn't make it clear in your notes that they're vain.'

Trista narrowed her eyes and glared at Bennet. 'I don't know what it is. Is that what you want to hear? Maybe the scanners are damaged, I don't know! You can make up your own fucking minds, I'm not a technician!' she snarled.

Trista turned sharply and stalked over to the one of the bloodied chairs and sat down. She didn't care about the astounded look from Max, or the hateful one from Bennet. The akward glances between the soldiers didn't bother Trista either. She would help when the time came but for now this was just a mess of people trying to lay blame instead of looking for an answer and although there was an idea of a explanation, Trista really wasn't sure if she was being paranoid.

Trista idly fondled her necklace whilst the team busied themselves with checking armour and ammunition. Each tooth's curve and ragged texture was a chilling reminder of the Saturn. In the beginning it had taken so much time to prise the shards of memories from the demons' teeth. As time went on, her routine extraction sped up—one fang for all the fifteen soldiers lost to them under her command. She tried to stop the memories flooding back but as she caressed the sharp points of each of the trophies, Trista's mind pulled her into the past. She recollected seeing something on the Saturn and only recognised it as some _thing_ because a Xenomorph was grasping onto it. Xenomorphs couldn't float and there was a definite movement in the air, like a heat current. She thought it was new Marine technology. She thought she was about to be rescued. Trista clenched her jaw and was snapped back to the present by the sound of Trent's voice.

'Hey, Maybe it's the invisible man' he said aloud. The group gave a nervous chuckle and even Bennet gave a brief smile.

Trista remained stony-faced. She had a horrible feeling that it _was_ the invisible man.

It took Bennet less than twenty minutes to consult with Max and some of the other higher ranked officers that the search for survivors would commence. Their conclusion that the Atlantic's scanner may have been damaged at some point was agreed upon, although half-heartedly. The mission would resume. The first place they planned to look was the Arboretum. At least there was the possibility of survivors there, seeing as the scanning system was inoperable in that room. They were also eager to solve the mystery of what the scanning plates had picked up. Trista thought this was the most idiotic decision that had been made so far.

'Why would the survivors be in the Arboretum, those places are not exactly known for their security?' spat Trista.

'You can stay here if you want. If we find anything we'll let you know…unless of course there's something you're not telling us' replied Bennet.

Damn the woman! Trista could have sworn she was psychic. Well this time, ridicule be damned, she wasn't going to be the cause of a massacre. Trista took a deep breath. 'On the Saturn, there was something else…something other than the Xeno's on that ship' she blurted.

'Again, you failed to put that in your notes. You have a selective memory, Ms. Crellin. What was it?' asked Bennet.

'I don't know exactly what it was. Another alien, different, humanoid in appearance…' she shook her head, what could she tell them? '…extremely pissed off. A soldier of some kind…or…' Trista remembered the skulls it carried round its neck. Her hands moved to the teeth on her necklace. '…some kind of hunter perhaps.'

'Hunter?' said Max.

Trista looked at her old friend, he looked hurt and annoyed. The rest of the team twitched and shuffled. She had got their attention. Good!

'Maybe we should discuss this in the next room, Ms. Crellin?' Bennet said calmly.

'No! I want everyone to hear this. God knows they haven't been given enough information so far.' Trista accidentally caught Trent's eye. He bowed his head, each side of his jaw pulsing as he clenched his teeth. 'There was something else at the Saturn, and if it's found it's way here, then it's only a matter of time before we're past caring about the survivors. Waaaay past caring!' Trista slapped her hand against her prosthetic arm. Everyone stared. She knew she looked like a raving lunatic but then they all thought that anyway.

There was a moments silence before the commander spoke. 'Well, then. Since you felt the need to leave this information out before we departed, maybe you can introduce us?' Bennet pointed to Adam, Winters and two other soldiers from Team B. 'You lot stay here, keep us informed. The scanners may be damaged but at least they're showing something.

Trista opened her mouth to tell Bennet exactly what she thought of her when Winter's voice carried across the room. 'Commander, there's another room that's not picking up on the scanner. Just spotted it.'

'Where is it?' asked Bennet.

'It's two levels up…Um, I think it's the mortuary' said Winters.

'Well, there's not going to be many life signs there' said Trista, causing a few in the group to giggle nervously.

'We'll check it out. Leave your Headcoms on.'

'I want to come' said Adam sternly.

'Fine, that's up to you' replied Bennet, waving her hand impatiently in the air. 'Max, provide him with a rifle. Can you remember how to shoot straight?'

'Yeah' said Adam, carefully taking the weapon from Max.

Trista wandered up to Adam and Max. She looked at Adam as he checked the rifle. She gave a Max a questioning look.

'He was in the Infantry Unit about three years ago' said Max, nodding at Adam.

'Oh right, I didn't realize you were a soldier' she said to Adam.

'I'm not, I left after a year.' He lowered the rifle happy with his check.

'Why?'

Adam smiled and pointed at his glasses. It's genetic. Nothing they can do, my eyesight is shot.'

Trista gave a slow nod. She smiled at Max as he handed a rifle to her.

.'Are we ready, people?' Bennet shouted.

There were a few yells of 'yeah' and 'Let's do it!' from the group. Trista rolled her eyes.

'After you' said Max, gesturing toward the door.

'Yeah, I'll be behind Adam' said Trista giving the pale-faced man a slap on the back 'No offence pal, but I'm not having an armed myopic behind me. Maybe you can follow the commander?'

Adam and Max grinned. They followed the rest of the team out into the corridor. Trista was the last out. She didn't want Bennet to notice she hadn't taken her helmet.

…..

The group marched along the corridors in silence, broken only by the sound of Winters giving the all clear on Headcom. They hiked up the stairs to the next level. The last corridor before the entrance to the Arboretum had been painted in a mural of trees and flowers. Trista looked at them and felt a pang of sadness – the art was from the hands of children. Splashes of vibrant greens and flat browns filled the hall. It was a snapshot of innocence and hope. _All gone now_ Trista thought.

Before they entered the Arboretum, Bennet contacted Winters. 'Anything on the scanners.?'

'It's not showing anything Commander.'

'Right. Okay you lot. Take your positions. You two…' she pointed to Adam and Trista '…you stay in the middle of the group. Do not use those rifles unless I give the order to do so. Do I make myself clear?'

Adam looked at the angular weapon in his grip and gave an unsure nod.

'As always' replied Trista.

Bennet stared at Trista. 'Where's your bloody helmet?'

'Forgot it.' Trista gave an apologetic smile as the commander closed her eyes and swore.

The doors slid open with a gasp of air that sounded to Trisha like the last breath of the dying. She felt the hair on her arm prickle as she entered the room behind Adam, both surrounded by soldiers eager to use their weapons. The temperature in here was higher than the rest of the Station and there was a strong whiff of dew in the air. The team walked for about fifty metres along the sandy path, each of them eyeing the lush green foliage either side of them.

'Geez, it's hot in here' said Trent, leading the group into the man-made wilderness.

Private Murray bent over one of the exotic fauna and fondled the reflective magenta leaves with a gloved hand. 'Looks like a Stickybell. My dad keeps these' she muttered.

'Keep moving, people' said Bennet.

A rustling of leaves in the distance grabbed everyone's attention. Bennet slowed and peered into the deep green. 'What was that?' she whispered.

The next sound Trisha heard was a low whistling that, even in the hot interior, left her flesh prickled with Goosebumps.


	7. Hunted

A/N – In upcoming chapters, there will be a smattering of Yautja words here and there. Now I done slight research about their language, so if there are mistakes with the meaning, please let me know so I can change it.

Hunted.

Trista saw three wispy red slashes in the air and a flash of blue in the trees.

'GET DOWN!' She screamed.

The warning came too late. The blue light stopped at Presnik. He didn't have a chance to yell. Bennet fell sideways into the bushes as Adam careered backwards into Trista, both trying to avoid bits of Presnik's chest which exploded out of his back in a shower of red.

Trista released her rifle and steadied Adam, who was furiously trying to wipe blood and tissue off his visor. She was aware of screaming around her but it was dulled out in the heavy ringing of Trent's rifle. Rapid bursts of deadly heat and light pummelled through the dense green in front of them.

'Get it off me, get it off me' gasped Adam who was smearing the blood across his visor.

Trista snapped the collar stays off his helmet and pulled it off his head. Adam looked at her wildly and spun around to see soldiers firing in all directions.

'W—What's happening? 'he asked with a trembling voice.

'Stay here. If you see a red light anywhere…duck. Do you understand?' shouted Trista. Adam nodded his head and adjusted his glasses. She ran over to Bennet and pulled her up by her armour. 'Let's go!' she bellowed at the Commander's helmet.

She could see the confusion and panic behind the woman's visor. Max brushed up against Trista. 'We can't see anything. Commander, what are we doing?' he panted.

Bennet stared at Max with a glassy expression. She mumbled something which got lost in the last battery of fire.

'There's nothing there. We're not fucking hitting a thing!' yelled Trent, stepping backwards and scanning the surroundings.

'Commander! What are your orders?' shouted Max.

'F…fall buh back' she stammered, staring directly at where Presnik lay.

Trista's ears were ringing. The clamour of gunfire and the screams left their mark on her hearing. She should have worn the helmet. Everyone fell silent as a high pitched whistling emanated from the trees behind them. Trista turned and saw the blue light as it shot directly over Murray's head. It exploded against the trunk of a large fir tree. Murray gasped and fell to the floor while Trent and several others aimed their weapons in the direction of their attacker. The creaking of the tree couldn't be heard through the firing but Trista, Bennet and Max all watched helplessly as it collapsed onto the path. Their exit was blocked.

Another blast of light hit Private Carter in the neck, splattering the bushes beside him with blood. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Bennet and the rest of the team ran further into the Arboretum. Max was pushing Bennet forward. Adam and Murray were moving close behind. Trent and two other soldiers were still firing. Trent gave a growl of frustration as Trista pulled on his armour.

'Come on, you can't hit it…Let's go. Now!' she yelled.

Another shot smacked through the armour of one of the luckless soldiers. It came from the left hand side. Trista snapped her head round. Either this thing was fast or …there was another possibility she really didn't want to entertain. She slipped her metal digits into the gap in Trent's armour and jerked him backwards. There was no use in fighting, they had to run. Trent yelled in fury and stumbled after the rest of the team alongside Corporal Simmons. Trista started to run. As the ringing in her ears subsided slightly, she heard an ominous clicking directly behind her. Startled by the sound, she looked behind her, forgetting about Presnik's body covering the path. She quickly lost her footing in his pool of blood and fell hard into the gory puddle, landing on her prosthetic arm. The pain in her shoulder shot up her neck. She squealed in agony as her cheek fell upon the lukewarm liquid still ebbing from Presnik's body. In the corner of her eye she could see Max in the short distance ahead, screaming and gesturing for her to follow, but Trista's gaze fell mostly on the quivering air crouching on the trunk of the fallen pine.

Trista wondered if she had been infected with an alien parasite—it felt like her heart was trying to push through her ribs. She tried to slow down her breathing but panicked when she couldn't catch her breath. Flashes of the events at the Saturn returned to her in perfect clarity. Was this the same demon that haunted her so many years ago? She remembered the air had changed to a massive armoured body. She had panicked and aimed her gun at the creature, but that was then. Now, her rifle was slung across her body. She made no move to grab it as she knew she wouldn't be quick enough, although the temptation to do so was difficult to ignore. Trista stared defiantly at the thing in front of her and felt the rapid tap-tapping in her chest ease somewhat.

'I can see you' she growled.

Her eyes widened as two flickering blue lights appeared on the hunter. They were trained in her direction. Trista couldn't move even if she wanted to. She watched the eyes tilt to a sharp angle and then suddenly they disappeared.

The team's shouting had stopped. Trista knew then that they had finally seen it. She heard Max yelling not to shoot. She desperately wanted to get up off the ground and run as fast as she could, but only her eyes moved as they followed the ripples of air move purposefully along the trunk and into the bushes beside the path. Trista's jaw hung open as she heard the low rumbling voice of the hunter. She had never heard anything like it. Its words were punctuated with clicks and soft growls. It turned away from Trista and disappeared into the trees. There was a rustle of leaves, some which fell gently to the dirt floor. The thing had gone.

Trista couldn't get her legs to move. She became angry, knowing that now was not the time for a breakdown. 'Go' she whispered to herself, and then louder 'GO!'

She pushed her weight of the floor trying to still her footing in the blood and ran in the direction of the team. It wasn't long before the adrenalin coursing through her body gave her muscles the boost she needed to catch up with the others.

Max's shoulders dropped when he Trista sidled up beside him. 'That's the thing you were trying to tell us about' he asked in a croaky voice.

Trista nodded. She didn't want to open her mouth as the contents of her stomach would surely make a bid for freedom.

The team followed a narrowed path which curved past four large oaks, desperately trying to find another exit.

'Where are we going?' shouted Trent, gasping with effort as he ran.

'There should be another way out around here. There were four exits on the schematics, I think' replied Max.

'Fine, let's pick one and get out' said Trista.

Trista picked up pace and ran alongside Adam. She felt the need to protect him. He wasn't a soldier anymore and what he'd seen so far would likely give him nightmares for the rest of his days…however many were left. Trista wondered exactly why he was on this mission. Adam didn't fit her previous assumption that he was a company accountant. He was more…normal. This mission was bringing up more and more questions at each turn. Trista hoped there would be time left for her to find some answers.

As they rounded another corner, everyone jumped when Murray let out a scream. Trista suddenly saw the cause for Murray's reaction and halted her progression, along with the rest of the team.

'What the fuck is that?' gasped Trent.

Trista followed Max over to the body. It was suspended by its legs from an overhanging branch. Vines from the tree were wrapped around the ankles and pushed through the muscles in the calves which were exposed. Trista shut her eyes and turned away. She saw Murray leaning upon a log, covering her mouth, trying not to be sick.

'It skinned him' whispered Max to no one in particular.

'Where's his head?' asked Adam squinting through his glasses.

Bennet slowly moved up to the body. Her eyes rested on the neck the mutilated corpse. 'It's Gray' she said quietly.

'What? How can it be…?' Max followed Bennet's gaze and sighed. 'Christ'

'How can you be sure that's Gray?' asked Trista.

'Look at his neck.'

Trista peered at the edges of the top half of the neck and winced. The decapitation was clean, most likely achieved with a sharp blade or sword. Her eyes rose further up to the black laced burn that had originally been the cause of Gray's demise.

'We should cut him down' said Bennet, beginning to find her voice after the attack.

Trista's voice was soft 'We can't risk staying here any longer. We've got to go before it comes back.' She readied herself for a full on verbal assault and was surprised when Bennet simply nodded her head.

Max gently took Murray's arm and led her round the body. The rest of the team dodged Gray in single file. Trent glanced briefly at the corpse and let his head bow. For the first time, Trista gripped onto her rifle and rested its bulk on her hip. Private Fleiss and Corporal Simmons covered the back of the group, but Trista could see this new development with a former comrade hit them hard. They were distracted and were likely not to spot the hunter as quick as they should.

Max called out softly when he spotted the exit. He and Murray were the first out. Trista gestured Trent and Simmons through the door. She looked back at the mass of trees. Everything was still, an eerie silence that gave a false impression of calm. She backed up through the door and caught her breath as she heard a loud roar carry through the trees.

She suddenly recalled the voice of the hunter growling something from the trees when she was at its mercy. The word sounded like Tarrayzahn. She wondered if it was the same creature on the Saturn. Maybe it had spared her because it recognised her?

Trent looked at her and at the doors as they closed the noise in. 'Oh crap, I hope it doesn't follow us.'

Trista gave a small laugh 'Oh it will, I'm sure. Luck isn't exactly on our side. I'm willing to distance myself from it though, if you are.'

Trent raised his eyebrows and glanced at Trista 'Hell yeah, I'll go with that' he snorted.

They hurried along the white corridors catching up to the rest of the squad, leaving the arboretum and the hunter far behind.

…

Trista strode up to Bennet as she tried to get Winters on Headcom. Max was heading the front with Murray, who had charge of Bennet's Motion Tracker. There was no sound from the MT. Trista felt tense. One of the worst moments in a soldier's life was to hear the MT break its silence, releasing its subtle blip which increased in consistency and volume as the enemy approached.

Bennet sighed as she continued to speak into her microphone. 'Winters, are you there? Copy' She sighed and smacked the side of her helmet with her palm.

'Something's happened' said Max shaking his head.

Trista groaned. Was it the Xeno's or maybe another Hunter that had got them? Trista felt her stomach lurch at the thought of another hunter on the station. One was enough!

Bennet's back snapped up straight when a crackling voice rang from her set.

'Commander, are you there? Its Winters…copy'

The team laughed in relief. For the first time since they'd been here, Trista saw a huge toothy grin spread across Bennet's face. 'Aaa ha! Winters, what a beautiful voice you have. We're on our way back and we're getting out of here. We need more back up. Look, we've just been am…'

Murray gasped as the Motion Tracker gave a blip, then another. The team listened intently to the sound, their laughter drying up. Bennet looked at Murray, who pointed up with one shaking finger. Trista knew that whatever it was, was stalking the level above.

Winters cut in. His voice was filled with panic 'Commander, there is movement in the corridor above and below you. Multiple signals about four levels below you!'

'Copy that!' answered Bennet. 'Trent, Max, Simmons - get ready. We're going up.'

….

Tarrayzahn : Tarei hsan (unworthy opponent). Considering that Trista was sprawled on the floor and was distinctly non-threatening at that point, I decided that the 'Hunter' would not bother trying to kill something which looked a bit pathetic.


	8. The Gathering

The Gathering.

Trista followed behind Trent toward the stairs to the next level. She heard the insistent blipping of Murray's MT behind her and shuddered. It was a reminder that certain hell could be below or above them. She felt the hairs bristle on her arm as Bennet shuffled up beside her.

'What's the reading, Winters?' asked Bennet, lifting up the visor on her helmet.

'I can't count how many are below you, commander…too many to count' he breathed 'there are a few signals on the level above' replied Winters.

Bennet briefly glanced behind to the team. 'Yeah, we got that on the MT. We're going up.'

Trent took the lead holding his gun tight as he trod swiftly but noisily up the metal stairs. Trista dropped to the back alongside Simmons, deciding that it might be fruitful to keep an eye on the darkened stairs below in order not to get bitten from behind. Murray kept centre with Adam and Max. The bleeping of the MT was slightly drowned out against the collective steps of the group pressing up the stairs but Trista could still make out its repetitive chide, the insistent beats quickening along with her pulse.

'Can you not shut it off?' she whispered.

'We need it' said Bennet, recognising the source of Trista's irritation.

'I can't hear if anything's coming' snapped Trista. All I can hear is that damn blip-blipping.

'Use your eyes then' said Max.

Trista glared up at Max, who gave her a wide grin. Sweat was dripping off his eyebrows and the shadows under his eyes seemed have gotten darker in the last ten minutes. She gave him a half smile. 'Who's the smart arse?'

Trent neared the door to the next level. He looked to Bennet who edged forward in order to activate the doors. They sprung open with a hiss which made Trista gasp. Bennet heard her and snorted.

'Be careful to check the corners, commander' said Trista through gritted teeth.

Trista almost tripped on the next step. She regained her balance and grasped the rail and caught sight of a dancing shadow approaching from below. The blips were rapid fire now.

'Oh my God, they're coming' said Murray.

The shadows in the levels below increased. The darkness was rising. As Trista shuffled back through the door she saw a telling tubular shadow on the wall below. The hissing pulled Trista back into familiar territory – Xenomorphs.

The group darted down the corridor, graced with the same décor as the others – cold and stark, although this one had a few more blood stains gracing the walls. Trista tried to ignore them as the team continued through the brightly lit corridors. They passed by doors at either side of them, which automatically pulled open as they hurried by, each dark interior promising an untimely end or a huge sigh of relief.

As they passed the forth door, the M.T. increased it's rhythmic tapping. The group slowed. Bennet communicated with Winters again.

'Winters, do you have our position?'

'There's something in front and behind you. Get out of there' he gasped.

Trista looked back at the stair doors. The hiss of their opening gave way to a louder, sharper hiss. She saw an arm glide through the doorway, black and sleek, its sharp spiny fingers curled slightly. The slick black dome came next, edging its way forward, cautious and slow. Trista watched as the lips slunk back revealing the glassy fanged smile of the Xeno. Trista didn't need to see anymore, she turned and willed the muscles in her legs not to give way. She saw the team ahead turn a corner into the next narrow hall and heard a scream followed by a quick burst from a pulse rifle.

Trista burst into a sprint. There was no turning back. She rounded the corner to find nothing. No team, just two walls, a floor and ceiling and the space between filled with air. She faltered and gasped in frustration. The hissing behind her was approaching. She could hear the pattering of Xeno limbs clambering along the smooth floor apace. She jumped over to the first of two doors opposite each other. She had to get in somewhere, maybe try to override the controls for the door, jam them. She winced as she realised she wouldn't have nearly enough time to do so. She felt the jerk on the back of her shirt and gave a yell. The sharp blade rocketed out of her arm in an instant and then it was dark.

It took a few seconds for Trista's eyes to allow for the low light in the room. She could make out Adam's silhouette and several people around a disassembled panel by the door.

'Be quiet. Don't make a sound, for God's sake.'

Trista recognised Bennet's sharp tone and immediately turned to face her. She could just about make out the moist glare in her eyes as they stared unblinkingly at the door. They stood still in the darkened room listening to the everywhere noise of scraping, padding and Xeno screams as they passed outside the door. There was a sound of tails whipping and slapping the walls and then silence.

There was a soft bleeping as the light increased in the room. Trista looked toward the door panel and saw a balding thin man fiddling with the components in the broken panel. Trent stood a little way behind him and next to a boy who couldn't have been more than twelve years old. Trista turned to Bennet with a puzzled look and then noticed Adam who stood staring at the bald man with a huge smile on his face.

'Thanks' whispered Max to the man as he fixed the panel back in place.

'We're just pleased to see you here' said the man as he turned the group. 'Adam...' the man ran over to him and hugged him so hard, Adam's feet lifted from the floor.

Bennet shook her head and Trista's jaw hung open. Adam, still smiling, turned to them and announced in a low tone 'I'd like you all to meet my brother – Sam.' He turned to his brother 'I knew you'd be alive, you old dog.'

The young boy scurried up to the brothers and pulled on Sam's bloodstained shirt. 'Let's go, we have to go…please.'

'Okay Paul. Don't worry, they're gone now.' Sam looked at each of the group in turn. 'We'll go back to the Morgue. I'll explain everything there and there's a few other survivors who'll be pretty damned pleased to see you lot.'

'Wait a minute. What the hell is going on?' hissed Bennet. 'How many survivors are there?'

'The morgue?' added Trista.

'You could've got yourself shot buddy' piped in Trent.

'Yes, sorry about that, but you gave us quite a scare out there' said Sam, chuckling. 'But really, we should be…'

Sam was cut off by a soft scraping on the outside of the door. A heavy breath and a thud confirmed that they had been found.

'How do we get out of here?' said Max, pushing the boy to the back of the room.

'This way' said Peter leading the group to an air duct behind a desk. Trista looked at the small hole and groaned. Behind her the thudding increased, a collective rumble against the heavy door. It sounded as though they were being chased by thunder.

Trista crouched before the vent. She was the last one in after Max, who beckoned to her to hurry.

'Try not to create any sparks with your arm' he said with a wink.

…..

They had spent ten minutes scurrying through the vents, trying to remain quiet despite Trent's soft swearing when he managed to keep jamming his pulse rifle between the narrow metal panels. Bennet occasionally broke the silence to give instructions for Winters and the crew to head back to the Sentinel and perimeter the space station, giving them strict orders that on no account should they land again unless given the say so by the commander.

When Sam jumped out of one of the outlets to the right, the team gave a collective sigh of relief and rapidly shuffled toward the exit. They found themselves in a large white room filled with empty glass tubes, some of which were shattered. Shards of glass rested along the shiny grey tables and on the white tiled floor.

'What happened here?' asked Max, glancing at some of the damaged instrumentation.

'Is this the morgue?' asked Trent, staring at a bloody patch on one of the tables.

'No, no. They can get into here, the morgue is this way' said Sam in a cheery voice. He strode toward a thick set door to the right. The panels on either side had wires poking out as if pulling tongues to the visitors. On either side of the top of the door were two smooth black panels- Visipanels, thought Trista, expensive. They looked new.

'Man, where'd you salvage these from?' asked Trent, running his finger down the slick ebony.

'Didn't. They were already here' replied Sam.

'That doesn't make any sense, why would anyone want to attach high security to a morgue?' said Bennet.

'All will become clear' said Sam cryptically. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small circuit board. 'Nothing can get into here…unless you have a key' he said holding up the board.

It took mere seconds for Sam to attach the coloured wires to the board. He tapped a few numbers into the console housed in the wall causing it to give a solitary bleep. A worried voice emanated from the console.

'Is that you, Sam?'

'Yep, and we have visitors. Security forces, no less.'

Trista heard a squeal of joy from the console. The door slid open with a groan. Two faces peered out from inside the room, one a wrinkled male, the other a woman Trista guessed was in her early thirties. She had red rimmed eyes which might have added a few years, if it wasn't for the vitality in her gaze as she looked at each of the team.

They were in the room now, and Trista saw that there was another man, sitting on the floor, his left leg stretched out in front of him secure in a cast. The other was a child – a girl with chubby cheeks and matted black hair, but it was the other addition in the room which had attracted every one of the teams' stares. In the corner of the room, enclosed within a huge clear stasis box and stretched out on a slab, its feet and crusted shell of a head resting over the ends of the table was the hunter that had haunted Trista's dreams.

'Was that the thing that chased us in the Arboretum?' asked Murray, her shaking hand clasped around the rifle which she pointed at the corpse.

'What thing?' asked the man in the cast, his eyes wide and searching 'What, you mean there's another one of these out there?'

'Yep and very much alive and probably looking for his comrade' said Trista waving her metal hand toward the dead alien. Brilliant! This just gets better.'

'Well, that explains the security' whispered Adam, inching closer to the huge bulk of the creature.

Trista paced back and forth. She felt the walls of the morgue closing in on her. She tried to avoid looking at it, but her survival instinct kicked in and instead her gaze couldn't tear away from the dead figure. 'Where did it come from? We need to get it out of here.' She could hear her voice rising into panic.

'Calm down will you. The Xeno's can't get in here and neither will that other…thing' snapped Bennet.

Trista breathed deeply and walked up to the mottled body of the hunter. She scanned its greyed face. The scientists had tried to preserve it, but already pieces of its flesh were rotting off.

'I wouldn't bet on it' whispered Trista.

'


	9. Decisions

Decision

Trista laid her head against the walls cool surface. Everyone picked a space in the room and slumped to the floor. After the days events no one had anything to say. An earlier discussion on what to do next ended with information that between certain hours, it would be safe to leave the morgue and make their way to the flight bays.

The group had learned that the Xeno's were regular in their wandering after talking with some of the civilians. There were certain parts of the Atlantic that the survivors had learned to keep away from, their routine consisting of occasional visits to the kitchen and bathrooms. A cleaning bay was located down the corridor and they would use the ships scanners (a link to the Station's communications room was set by Sam) every time they travelled. Trista was impressed that they had managed to escape detection by the Xenos so far and knew that couldn't last.

The plan to leave during certain timescales would surely be enough to minimize any potential carnage; however, Trista knew that there was a spanner in the works in the form of the hunter. She had brought it up during the discussion but the majority felt that the Xenos, being of greater number, would take priority.

Trista tilted her head and out of the corner of her eye she could see the commander talking quietly with David, one of the Space Stations many mechanics and the only one who escaped an ambushed by the infestation. He broke his femur after falling out of the clutches of a Xeno whilst fixing one of the garbage disposal units colloquially known as GDU's. In a desperate attempt to avoid a second confrontation, he managed to crawl into the unit and locked himself in until his yells brought Sam and the others. The only people in the group who seemed riveted by the story were Commander Bennet and Max. Max seemed especially fascinated by the workings of the GDU's and asked numerous questions in regards to their operation. Trista occasionally listened in, but spent most of her time looking over at the corpse on the slab.

The woman with the red rimmed eyes was Marie who was part of the catering staff. Sam was an engineer and the kids – Elle and Peter - were found on separate occasions, both hiding from the monsters that had taken their parents. They were lucky to be found by the small number of survivors and not by anything else. Many others were not so lucky. Sam related times when they had heard screams in the dead of night, mostly by people who had made their own hiding places within the ducts or simply just locked themselves in their apartments. They had managed to survive a few nights but eventually the Xenos returned and gathered the strays.

Trista strained to hear if she could hear any screams this night. Thankfully, the only sound came from Trent, who – to everybody's astonishment – managed to drift into sleep with little trouble. His soft snoring brought a kind of normality to the situation. Trista was thankful for that. The children were also asleep, after spending most of the evening engrossed by the sight of Trista's scars and especially her arm. She didn't mind them looking, as long as they didn't try to talk to her. She couldn't lie to children and her pessimism might have made them cry. Her eyes skipped over to the corner of the room again, to the place where _it_ lay. She wasn't quite sure if she was waiting for it to do something, to sit up or growl or click or lunge at her. She thought about the one in the Arboretum and then to the one that she had met many years ago.

'Credit for your thoughts' whispered Max.

Trista turned to her old friend. He, like Murray, Bennet, Sam, David and herself was still wide awake.

'Not much in there worth anything' replied Trista, rubbing her temples.

Max smiled and leaned forward, clasping his hands together. 'You know, did I ever tell you about how I met Alice in Reno?'

'Many times'

'How about the time I fell down a mining shaft on TY-7? Yes, oh right. Then what about that time I won…'

'Sixteen thousand credits on the Planteen Races and then lost it in a game of poker…yeah. I'm sure you're going somewhere with this, Max, I just can't imagine where.'

Max shrugged. 'You know on nights like this, you know the ones, just before you go into a situation that could end up with your ass being bitten into a million pieces, I just like to trade stories with friends, comrades. I find it a good distraction from thinking about my ass being chewed off.'

Trista gave a long sigh. 'I don't like talking about it.'

'Well then, let's talk about the burgeoning relationship between Station mechanic David and our icy commander'.

Max nodded toward Bennet and David. Trista languidly glanced over to see the Commander with a warm smile on her face, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder and taking every available opportunity to touch the cast on David's leg.

'I'd rather not' said Trista. 'I plan to go to sleep soon and I certainly don't want my dreams invaded with _your_ Commander's romantic intentions.'

'What do you usually dream about then?' asked Max, slumping back against the wall.

There was a long silence before Trista decided to answer. 'I dream about the Saturn, about the people I lost, about Rob amongst other things.'

'Was that when you first saw it? I mean our special friend over there.' He pointed to the massive body of the hunter.

'Mmm.' Trista gave a sideways glance at Max 'Fine, I give up. Ahhh, well, it was supposed to be a routine clean-up. Those nights you mentioned about comrades trading stories. We did none of that. Straight in, fix the problem, straight out. Did I tell you that I'd been engaged to Rob for two weeks?'

Max winced and shook his head.

' Proposed to me on my birthday. Fool that he was, he asked, fool that I was, I said 'yes; so, the Xenos took most of the team. They either disappeared or were chewed up pretty bad. On the third night those of us that were left found Rob minus his skin. As you know, Xenos don't skin their prey so Rob was killed by _one of those_ things.' Trista jerked her head toward the creature on the slab. 'Of course I didn't know that then.'

'It did that to your arm?'

'Uh huh. Couldn't see it until it was too late. One heavy blow and that was that. I often wonder why it left me alive. Stayed awake most nights wondering about that in fact. I think that maybe it saw something in my eyes that day. I wanted to kill them. The Xenos, I mean. I woke up the next day in an infirmary bed with a bag full of teeth on the side cabinet. I think that's when my nickname was born.' Trista smiled and shook her head

'You know what hurts me most about that time? I spent years hating that thing for killing Rob, for taking a limb and yet this necklace is similar to the one it wore. This blade…' she rapped her metallic arm '…was made to emulate the one it had on its arm. I created this stuff for myself without realising I was mirroring my enemy. The psychiatric unit would have a field day with me.'

'So why'd you do it?'

Trista bit her lip and looked over at the body. 'I don't really know. Maybe some part of me thought if I could become like it, I could destroy it, hunt it. I don't know. I've spent so many years after the Saturn figuring out ways to exact revenge, I've forgotten about the important bits.' Trista snorted a laugh 'I don't think of Rob as much as I think of the hunter.'

It was quiet for a moment, before Max spoke up. 'Maybe it's love?'

Trista snapped her head round to glare at Max, and then realised he was staring past her. He nodded toward Bennet, who Trista noted had moved onto picking imaginary fluff off David's clothing.

'Well, thanks for listening' said Trista in a petulant tone.

Max chortled. 'Sorry, aww come on. You know I'm a sucker for romance.'

'Yeah, well lap it up Maxwell. Tomorrow we're moving into horror territory.'

'Not if I can help it' Max whispered 'Bennet has me on scanner detail. I'll be working out the best route to take, in order to avoid my ass being bit off.'

'Hmm, I'll know who to blame if I come face to face with a Xeno. I recommend not going back through the Arboretum.'

'Consider it done. Don't want your hair turning completely white, do we?' said Max, tugging at a strand of snow white hair that fell over her eye.

…

After grabbing a few hours restless sleep, Trista woke with a jolt. Everyone else seemed to be up and collecting items for their transport back to the Sentinel. Bennet was sorting everyone's role in the group. Trent, Bennet and Simmons would take the front, Murray and Max, the back, everyone else in the middle.

Max stood in front of a screen which showed the layout of the complex, Sam and Adam stood beside him, occasionally pointing and shaking their heads. The kids stood next to Marie who seemed to have taken on the role of surrogate parent. They were staring at Trista as she rose unsteadily from the hard floor. She avoided eye contact with them.

'Come on, sleepy head' said Bennet cheerfully, throwing a heavy bag toward Trista.

Trista frowned as she caught the bag. She wasn't sure if the weight of the bag unnerved her more or the fact that Bennet seemed to have undergone a change of personality which made her pleasant.

'That's all the ammunition we have' said Bennet pointing at the bag 'If we have to use our weapons, I suggest keeping out of shot…just in case' she finished with a wink.

Trista gave a half smile. It seemed that it would take more than a romantic interlude to change the Commander's character. She was glad of it. Although Bennet was insufferable, Trista knew that her heart would remain committed to her team, rather than to the charming mechanic. There was no place for distraction, not today.

'I don't think it's a good idea. It's a longer route' said Adam.

Trista wandered over to Max and the brothers to find they were engaged in a small argument.

'I just think that it we go past the armoury unit, we can get everyone kitted out. We might need it and it's only the next section' said Max, keeping a level tone.

'We've seen a lot of activity there. It's one of the places we avoid' said Sam.

'Commander, what do you think?'

Bennet had appeared behind Adam and glanced at the schematics. 'If we use this route, we can get kitted up. We're far away from the Arboretum and if we run into any problems, we pass the GDU's – the only other safe place on this station.' Max gave a terse nod toward David.

'But there's been Xeno activity there for days' argued Sam.

Bennet stared at the screen for some time before turning to Dave. 'If we have to hide in the GDU's is there any way of us getting out from the inside?'

David gave a wry smile and scratched his chin. 'I don't think so. I was in there for sixteen hours before I was found. It's also dangerous. If the unit is activated we could be blown into space.'

Bennet sighed. 'Would I be able to communicate with the team on the ship in there? Would it block the signal?'

'I don't think so…I mean it shouldn't do, but I can't be sure' replied David with a grimace.

'You're not seriously suggesting we go into a section infested with Xenos?' said Trista.

'It's not infested, apparently there's been some activity and as Sam has said, they seem to be dormant during these hours' said Max a little heatedly.

'That doesn't mean they're not there. Any sound, ANY kind of noise will bring them!' hissed Trista.

'He's got a point' said Dave 'We might need some weapons. It's still some way from the flight bay.'

'It's not about gathering weapons, this is about staying alive, God damn it. What are you going to do, give the kids pulse grenades?' snapped Trista.

'Cool!' yelled Peter from across the room.

Bennet's face darkened. 'I've had it up to here with you. You are not in command and you've been _useless_ since you've got here. The oh-so magnificent "Alien Hunter"' Bennet mocked 'All you have done is complain. Where's the superior knowledge you're supposed to have? I haven't heard any of it so far, so put up and shut up or else you're on your own! We're taking that Max's route and I don't want to hear another damn word from you.'

'You're going to get us all killed' growled Trista, edging toward Bennet.

'No, I'll be avoiding any mistakes you've made' spat Bennet.

Trista's face dropped. Her mouth had gone dry. All she could do was clench her jaw whilst the Commander turned and headed toward the Morgues exit. The decision was made, despite Trista's protests and after a few minutes of checking armour, gathering small supplies and personal items, the group left the Morgue. Trista was still for a few moments. She turned to look at the hunter's corpse lying on the slab and shook her head. It didn't take much imagination to imagine her own battered body lying in its place.


	10. Murder on the Dance Floor

Murder on the Dance Floor

The group crept out into the corridor, the children remaining unnaturally quiet. They were not told to be so. Trista felt a pang of sadness for them. The innocence of their childhoods must have come to an abrupt halt after witnessing real live monsters cutting through the swathes of citizens on the Atlantic. From then on the children of the slaughtered would be silent. She felt angry for the victims, who were uninformed and ill unprepared for the kind of creatures they had allowed onto their station, into their homes.

She wondered exactly how they came onto the ship, whether they were found in a derelict salvage vessel which passed their orbit, or whether they had found something on the planet below them. Usually the fault lay with a hapless salvage team excited by the discovery of an egg and the possibility of a new life form to be catalogued with the promise of riches to follow. Maybe the dead hunter and the parasite had been found together although what the armoured alien would be doing with the alien egg was anyone's guess.

Curiosity and discovery could catapult ideas and invention up to new levels but on occasion it could end up punching a large dent in advancement and even in population. Trista sighed; she just couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. Ever since she'd got here, there was something niggling her about the whole situation. There were too many unanswered questions, too many coincidences to put this event down as the worst luck of the draw. To be a party to not just one malevolent alien was one thing, but two occupying the same space was more than a catastrophic turn of events, it was suspicious. She continued forward, holding her position behind the children, with Sam and Private Murray making up the rear of the chain, thoughts of the unlikeliness of coincidence coursing through her mind.

Max had joined Bennet and Trent up front. Each direction was discussed in urgent whispers and then pointed to. Trent would edge forward first, his rifle pointing into the space in front. Adam and David kept vigil behind the commander along with Simmons, who held the responsibility of monitering the Motion Tracker.

Approaching corners made everyone hold their breath, even with the steady hum of the MT promising safe passage, those tense few seconds were the times when silence reigned.

They descended one level and continued at pace down the labyrinth of corridors. Trista wondered if the citizens ever lost their way, every wall strictly adhering to the same uncreative décor throughout. Signs dotted above each automated door gave the nod that they were heading toward the armoury unit, each 'AU' stark and black with an arrow next to it. Trista clenched her fists with each soft hiss of the activated section doors, every synapse firing, every muscle twitching; every gland poised to secrete adrenal fluid should they find something lurking in wait.

Deeper down the passageway, Max stuck his hand up. The group halted just outside the Armoury Unit. It took Sam a few seconds to bypass the code on the doors. Trista noted the shake in her friend's hands as Max leant towards Bennet and whispered something in her ear. Bennet straightened up, turned and walked along the line.

'Max is going in to retrieve the weapons along with Sam. We're staying put, just in case. I want all of you to keep quiet. He won't be more than a minute.'

Trista rolled her eyes but kept her mouth shut. Enough had been said to the commander already and little good it had done them. She contented herself with counting the seconds that passed.

It took a minute and a half before the AU door opened again. Sam came out first brandishing a plethora of arsenal, including, Trista noted, a large energy cannon which he struggled to keep aloft. Trent immediately relieved Sam of the burden, his eyes lit up like a child waking to the best Christmas present ever. Max followed soon after carrying some smaller arms which he issued to Sam, Adam and Marie. Marie looked suspiciously at her gift of weaponry and shook her head sadly, the small gesture leading to a coughing fit. Trista still had her rifle over her shoulder but accepted a smaller firearm from Max called a Whipper. When triggered, a bullet shot toward the victim attached to a length of wire. Upon contact small angled shards rocketed out of its girth, much like a harpoon. It was a particularly nasty weapon which had long been banned by most sections. Most were kept as nothing more than decorative pieces, but some still made the rounds amongst the criminal fraternity, especially on the old Worlds. Trista had always wanted to try one.

Max and Murray gave quick demonstrations on using their respective firearms. Trista noticed the added bulk between Max's chest and his uniform and grinned. It was probably an old handgun or the like. Max always had a fascination with the old world.

The group continued ahead toward the East wing of the station, Peter dragged his feet between the adults, sulking for being refused a grenade.

They were closing in on their destination, becoming complacent with each side door that whirred open. They passed by the Recreation rooms – The pool room; the Gymnasium; the Holoport. When Trent set off the door to the Ballroom, the first thing that Trista saw was a bright red light beaming onto the opposite wall.

'Get down!' she yelled and dived to the floor, Max followed suit. Trent turned and aimed into the dark room. Trista twisted her head upwards only to see the red mark on Trent's chest. She took a sharp intake of breath and tensed her muscles for the screams. It took a few torturous moments before the light turned to cyan blue, then lemon yellow. Trista was not the only one with a look of confusion as Trent started guffawing. He turned to the mass of frightened bystanders and simply said 'Disco'.

The relief was so distracting, the laughter all consuming borne of relief, that it was too late to stop Elle from squealing and running into the room. Trent lunged forward in an effort to grab her arm but missed. Breaking away from the chuckling party, Trista darted inside to look for the girl, all the time cursing under her breath.

As soon as Trista got she upped the lights to a small degree, if only to see where Elle had got to, she spotted something high in the ceiling that made her blood curdle. She darted over to Elle, who was already at one of the blinking consoles, attracted by the pulsing neon glow, her finger poised to push the blinking button. Trista's thoughts as she sped toward the child, too late to stop her inquisitive nature, was that of her grandfather and something he once said to her about a cat's curiosity and the fate that befell it. She yanked the child up into her arms so hard it made the girl shriek with fright, a yell that failed to drown out the music that began to blast around the room.

Trista heard the voices of Bennet and Trent first. Most of the group had followed them into the room, not wanting to leave anyone behind; the commander had ordered the civilians to stick close to the door. Trista squeezed the struggling child to her chest. Even in the hard environment the little girl had become used to, she was afraid of Trista – a reaction due to her damaged face, no doubt. Bennet and Trent were edging forward coming up to meet Trista. Trent's shoulders were raised high as though trying to cover his ears from the loud music, his hands currently occupied with the energy cannon. Bennet was slightly behind Trent with a look of fury etched on her face. She mouthed at Trista to shut the music off and rolled her eyes upwards. She stopped immediately and stared at the ceiling, her mouth agape. Trista knew she had spotted the cadaver. It hung limp, tethered in a resinous blue-black web high above the dance floor.

The corpse had once been a host, a vessel for the parasite to grow. Christened by flesh and sinew, the vile birth would inevitable end with the death of the carrier. A bloody birth coupled with an equally bloody death. Trista made sure the head of Elle was pushed against her shoulder ignoring the child's screams that were drowned out to anyone else by the loud music. Trista kept the girl's head still. The last thing she wanted was for Elle to witness any more destruction than she had to.

The rest of the group, curious to see what had stopped Bennet, had wandered deeper into the large circular room. Trista hissed at them to stay back, but her warnings were lost in a sea of singing. 'Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game. Its eeeeasy' intoned the singer. Trista had heard that tune before. It was an old tune, well over a century old. She watched as Trent strode past her and toward the console, balancing the gun on one muscular arm.

Trista began moving forward. She had an urge to get out of the room as quickly as possible. Elle was still sobbing and pushing against her shoulder. The girl's fight stopped abruptly causing Trista to frown. The silence from the child sent chills through Trista and then it hit her – Elle had seen something. Trista span on her heels just in time to see Trent stumbling backward, at the same time swinging the wide butt of the energy cannon in a circular sweep. Trista screamed at the team, making Elle whine and bury her head further into Trista's shoulder.

'GET OUT! ALL OF YOU GET OUT NOW!'

* * *

><p>Song 'All You Need Is Love' by The Beatles :)<p> 


	11. Nowhere You Can Be

Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be. 

There was a dull thud as the handle of Trent's gun made brutal contact with the glistening black head of the Xenomorph. The creature shrieked as it slid backwards across the dance floor . Trent grunted when he saw there was no damage to its exoskeletal frame, although its balance proved to be no match for the momentum of the swing. He quickly rose from the floor and ran a couple of steps backwards, keeping his focus on his attacker. The energy cannon fired, lighting up the gloom in a mass of white light. The alien had no time to swerve and met its fate head on, its pressurized tubular skull exploding in a shower of viscous yellow acid.

'_All you need is love'_ cooed the vocal from the speakers.

Trista heard the rattling hisses high above as she sprinted to the exit. She could feel Elle's head buried in her chest and her small digits digging into her back. She assumed the little girl was sobbing but all Trista could hear was angry yelling from Trent behind her mixed with the trumpets from the speakers and the snarls and spitting emanating from the darkness above. The rapid _thup-thup_ from the energy cannon bounced off the walls so much so that Trista had no idea how far behind Trent was.

She reached Adam and Sam who were halfway through the open door to the corridor.

Adam breathed hard 'Where's Marie?'

Trista squinted around her. There was no sign of the red eyed woman, but it was hard to see anything with the amount of blinding light rocketing around the room. Perhaps she was hiding or had foolishly followed her into the room to find Elle? Her eyes scanned the room again and noted Bennet sprinting over to Trent, charging her pulse rifle as she ran.

Trista groaned and peeled a whimpering Elle off her chest. She handed her to Sam who attempted to brush away some of the tears that streaked down her pale cheeks. 'I want my mummy' she sobbed before laying her head upon Sam's chest. Trista looked at the crumples figure in his arms and clenched her jaw to try and stop tears of her own from spilling out. She turned away from the girl and saw Max standing inside of the room firing quick rounds at the multiple descending creatures, desperately trying to halt their progress toward the targets in the middle of the room.

Trent and Bennet stood fast, back to back, sweeping their rifles across the room and toward the high ceiling. Bright rotating lights flickered off their skin and clothing as well as the aliens. The sharp staccato illumination from their weapons created a strobe effect across the hall, making the advancing demons' silhouettes shudder and jolt horribly as they ran toward them.

Trista gently pushed Sam and Elle to the wall of the corridor. Adam and David backed up too with Peter hiding behind David. Snapping her shoulder forward, Trista felt the comforting snap of the blade unsheathe from her arm. She bounded back into the room and moved into Max's vision. 'Where are the others?' she yelled.

'I don't know, Goddamnit…I think one of 'em took Simmons. Murray's gone in there. Where are the kids?' he shouted back, releasing his trigger finger for a few brief moments.

Trista looked hard at him and grabbed his shoulder, yanking him back before grabbing his jacket and and propelling him into the corridor. He immediately twisted around and glared furiously at Trista.

'Look after the group. Go on ahead…' said Trista, giving him a gentle shove in the direction of the flight bay.

'I'm not leaving my team. You know me better than that' he snarled.

He attempted to dodge around Trista but she held her place in front of him. She leaned and whispered in his ear. 'Please, think of the kids.' She nodded at Elle and Peter, both clearly terrified out of their wits. 'Think of your children and Alice. You have a life. Look after them. I'll help the others the best I can. GO!' She gave him another soft shove in the shoulder. Max looked at her with pained eyes. 'You're in charge of them now. Please Go.'

The two friends stood opposite, one with a future and one with a questionable fate. Trista stepped forward arms outstretched when heard the ballroom door wheeze open behind her, a massive sigh of noise fell from the ballroom breathing out a fanfare of trumpets and screeching. She had already turned, not needing to see the horrified face of her friend looking desperately at the thing behind her. Sam and the children were already halfway down the corridor. Max lifted his rifle, but Trista had already managed to jam her blade in and out of the side of the creature's head, quick enough wound it, quick enough to allow the majority of acidic fluid to arch past her arm. A few drops of the creature's blood fizzed and bubbled on her metallic limb. Trista jumped back, grasping at her hip flask with trembling fingers and poured a small amount of water onto the marks. The acid on metal hissed, producing a pungent smoke that made her fall against the wall and cough into her sleeve.

Max fired upon the dying creature, the slight twitch of its tail signaled the end of its death throes. He edged toward Trista and squeezed her shoulder. She was rubbing at her eyes with her sleeve. She peered at Max with eyes that had become red and veiny, trying the waft away the last of the acrid smoke from her face. 'Worse than onions' she muttered in a hoarse voice. 'How do I look?'

'Gorgeous. Listen, Trist, I…'

'Never mind, get to the bay. I'll see you later, right?'

Before Max could protest, Trista leapt over the dead creature and toward the door. She didn't stop to look back at her friend. 'Save a seat for me!' She shouted before sprinting deep into the heart of the room.

She immediately spotted Trent and Bennet, who had not stopped firing into the shadows. Murray had joined them and stood with her back toward the other two forming a triangle of defence which was proving to be effective. Murray was staring up at the ceiling, making sure that any Xeno's that aimed to drop on them were caught before they had a chance to come close. Murray turned and saw the Xeno clinging to the rafters above Trent. In her panic she shot off a round. A shower of yellow rained down above Trent.

…_need is love, love. Love is all you need…_

'MOVE!' She yelled, grasping Trent by the collar and pulling him to her.

Trent screamed in agony, clutching his right arm. Trista noted the familiar sickly smell of burnt flesh and skidded across the floor until she halted next to him and Murray. She administered the contents of her hip flask to his half eaten arm before grabbing the energy cannon and aiming directly at a leering figure approaching from the left. The creature exerted a high pitched squeal and collapsed, thrashing its segmented tail across the scorched floor in its death throes.

'WE'VE GOT TO GO. YOU CAN'T KILL ALL OF THEM! THE OTHERS HAVE GONE AHEAD' Trista glanced at Bennet over her shoulder.

'WE CAN'T MAKE IT OUT, ARE YOU BLIND?'

Commander Bennet scowled and kept shooting. She released her trigger finger when the charge of the aliens ceased. Hissing fell ominously around the small huddle.

Trista let the rifle fall to her side and pulled Trent up from the floor using her metal arm to lever the injured soldier. His left arm naturally fell around her shoulders. The stump on his right arm was still sizzling. Trista saw the beads of sweat rolling down the man's neck and knew the kind of pain he felt. His only blessing was that there was no chance he would bleed to death, the acid having slowed its hungry ascent up Trent's arm leaving it cauterized. He was in shock and disorientated.

'Why have they stopped?' asked Murray, looking back at her commander.

_Nothing you can know that isn't known…_

Why _had_ they stopped? Trista shook her head and knew that now was the time to make a move. She clenched her jaw and held the muscular weight of Trent against her side, blinking each time the disco lights swept across her face. She could still hear the subtle hisses of a multitude of Xeno's around the hall. Were they communicating or threatening? Trista never doubted the aggressive intelligence of the species. Their organizational prowess as a species was an effective and instinctual trait which ensured the continued survival of the hive and Trista knew enough about them to realize that they were a learning species and even a little knowledge was a danger – a fatal miscalculation that she and her team had brought home to them on the Saturn.

The commander had begun to move sideways….slowly. Murray and Trista followed suit, Trista dragging a groaning Trent alongside her. His skin was clammy and cold. It didn't bode well for the private unless they could get him into a Medibay – if any of them survived of course. They had managed to edge halfway across the dance floor when the aliens began shrieking – an ear piercing sound that made the team gasp. They halted their progress and all three women scanned the walls.

Trista blinked as another red disco light dragged across her vision.

_Nothing you can see that isn't shown._

The light stopped dead in the middle of the floor and began to rise - an unnatural pattern for the party light. Trista noticed two more red beams. They weren't disco lights. She felt her shoulders drop.

'Oh no' whispered Murray.

Distracted by the triangular beam, Murray didn't see the Xeno drop in front of her until it was too late. She fell back into Bennet and Trista who slipped and dropped back to the floor along with Trent who unwittingly used Trista's stomach as a soft landing point. Trista exhaled sharply winced as she watched the Xeno's internal mouth rocket through Murray's visor. She didn't even have time to scream. She looked over to Bennet who was struggling to lift herself off her gun.

_It's eeeeeeasy_.

The mouth retracted quickly into the creature's mouth, its deadly kiss thick with blood and torn flesh.

_All you need is love._

Trista struggled to push Trent off her torso, desperately trying to raise the gun at the Xeno. The monster grabbed Murray by the shoulders and had her in a full embrace, dragging her deeper into the room before dropping the body to the floor. Trista held up the cannon, her hand shaking with the weight of it. She tried to ignore the pain in her arm, abdomen and back as she took aim. The creature exploded. The trumpeting squeals sounded louder now from all sides. Trista hadn't even pulled the trigger. She saw the brilliant red beams swing away from their victim, whose remaining internal organs melted into Murray's.

Trista lifted Trent up for the second time, relieved that he was slightly warmer and was attempting to walk instead of being dragged. Bennet dashed to his other side, providing a shoulder for the private to lean on. Trista had the cannon and took the rear.

They were close to the exit when Trista's foot caught gainst something on the floor and collapsed hard upon it. In a effort to push herself up, her fingers fell into slime and gore. She looked at the glazed eyes of Marie and quickly pulled her fingers from out of the chewed out hole in her chest. Trista groaned. No wonder Marie had looked pale and tired. She had been impregnated by an alien parasite. The pain of its imminent birth must have brought her away from the children. She had looked after them as best she could but she must have known she wasn't getting off the station.

_Love is all you need_

_Love is all you need_

_Love is all you need_

Bennet and Trent stood in the corridor, Bennet beckoning to Trista whilst keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the centre of the hall.

Trista followed Bennet's gaze and saw it standing there. Its knees were slightly bent, the muscles in its dark green freckled legs twitching with each sharp movement of its large masked head. The hunter twisted one hundred and eighty degrees. The angular cannon on his shoulder jerked toward the music console. 'Love is all…' A brief flash of light ended the music. The cannon jerked further right and halted a Xenomorph in its tracks with little movement by its owner.

Bennet forced her gaze away from the hunter and called to Trista, who rose unsteadily, trying to stop her feet from sliding across the slick floor. She managed to lunge out the door and grabbed Trent around the waist.

'Whu, while you're down there' said Trent with a wan smile.

Trista raised a brow 'Oh, it's forming words is it.'

She lifted his stumpy arm around her shoulder and both she and Bennet half ran down the corridor with Trent doing his best to keep his feet moving.

Two people might be quick enough to assist the injured private to the flight bay, although Trista knew that it wouldn't take long before the deserted hunter would become overwhelmed and as advanced as his weaponry was, the hunter was simply outnumbered. Then the Xeno's would undoubtedly give chase to the trio once they had conquered the warrior. They turned to move down one corridor and then stopped.

'It's the other way' stated Bennet.

'You sure?'

'Max showed me the route several times. I'm sure' gasped Bennet. Even with two people assisting the injured private he was still a heavy son of a bitch.

'You should never have told Max to plan an escape, he can barely find his own apartment' Trista growled.

Bennet stared at her. 'What are you babbling about? Max insisted he do it.'

Trista frowned at Bennet's response but quickly turned her mind to pushing forward, getting back to the Sentinel and having a well-earned rest – oh, how she wanted to lay her head back and drift into unconsciousness- against the sturdy black seats

They struggled through the second set of double doors, heading slowly toward the flight bay. A few steps later, Trista had stopped, bringing both Trent and Bennet to a halt. She thought about the hunter again. It wasn't just a question that the Xeno's would catch up at the pace the trio were traveling at, but also the lingering guilt that no matter what it was that fought alone against their enemies, the hunter was the reason that Bennet, Trent and Trista was still alive, regardless of whether it was intentional.

'Why the hell have you stopped? C'mon' hissed the commander.

Trista groaned. She had to go back, and for this reason alone she really, really hated herself.

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><p><em>AN- Thank you for the reviews and the views so far. I hope you're enjoying the read._


	12. The Enemy of my Enemy was my Friend

The Enemy of my Enemy was my Friend.

Trista removed Trent's arm from around her shoulder. He remained supported by Bennet on one side and was becoming steadier on his feet with each passing second. Trent remained weak but his strength of will and his determination to fight meant his recovery would be swift.

'What do you think you're doing?' snapped Bennet.

Trista detected the fear in the commander's voice. Like any leader responsible for their unit, there was a drive that compelled Bennet to cradle each and every one of her team. Like Trista had been many years before, Bennet didn't want to face the families of those she had lost. Trista stared at Bennet without expression and did not belie any emotion that could sway pity or enflame a spark of guilt. Bennet needn't feel responsible for Trista's likely death; it was her choice and hers alone.

'I've no family, there's no-one to inform…in case anything goes wrong. Oh, and if you plan to blow up the facility, just blame it on me' said Trista adjusting the cannon over her shoulder.

'I'm not thinking about laying blame, you stupid shit' Bennet sighed. 'Just make sure you get back to the Sentinel. We'll be waiting. Okay?'

Trista glanced sidelong at the commander. She wasn't sure if Bennet's response was concern for her well-being or just one last verbal assault before Trista ran back into the fire-pit. She accepted it was the former, not at all surprised that Bennet had accepted her decision to return. Trista knew then that the commander would have done the same, if it weren't for her wounded comrade and the survivors that were waiting for her.

There was nothing more to say. She nodded at the woman and ran at full pelt toward the hall, not looking back, and hoping that her companions would complete their journey without compromise, even if she had fallen. Some part of Trista felt that this was some small snippet of repentance for the team she had lost, but maybe there was another feeling too – revenge, perhaps? The thought stabbed at her as she flew through the doors back into the hall.

She stopped dead and saw the hunter still in position, battling with a Xenomorph that was scratching at his mask with black talons, unable to use its retractable mouth as the hunter had used his arm blade to skewer into the bottom jaw. It was pinned at arms length and gurgled in frustration at not being able to move its head.

Trista saw the black mass of bodies littering the hall. The lights danced off each one of the smoking corpses filling the dance floor with a multi-coloured mist which curled around the hunter. She didn't look at the body of Marie until she caught a movement inside the body's torso with made her snap her head toward it. Trista watched as the pale young Xenomorph that Marie had once housed chewed its way deeper into the woman's abdomen. Its biggest mistake was coming back to its surrogate mother to feed. It remained completely oblivious to Trista until she forced her own arm blade into its soft oblong head. It was dead in an instant.

Her blade was blackened and the point dulled with the onslaught of acid but it was still effective with force. She turned her attention back to the hunter who had managed to wrench the head off the Xeno's body. He couldn't see that the Xeno behind him had leapt behind him. It landed on his back forcing him to step forward. His shoulder cannon rotated quickly but it was immediately torn off by the large black creature.

Trista felt dizzy as she ran towards them, taking care to leap across puddles of acid that had already started burning holes into the floor. If she wasn't fast the stanchions below the surface would be compromised and everything would drop. She shook away the gruesome image of several mutilated Xeno's landing on top of her, fizzing lethally.

When she entered the mist, she noted movement to her right and instantly felled the Xeno with a blast of the cannon. She approached the hunter, who was bent double trying to shake off the demonic looking creature on its back, but to no avail. The Xeno's jaws were open and poised. Trista lunged forward and grabbed its ridged tail with her artificial hand. She yanked hard. The creature screamed and slid down the body of the hunter, causing sparks to fly against the armor covering the hunter's upper arms. The Xenomorph suddenly released its hold and swung a clawed arm around at Trista. She pulled her head back in time as the talons skimmed past her neck. Her head pulled forward slightly and then jerked back, causing her to lose her balance. She fell hard against the floor narrowly missing a detached limb off one of the creatures. Struggling up, she watched as the hunter pushed its blades through the jaw of his attacker, the jagged points bursting free out of the top of the Xeno's skull.

Trista stared at the hunter's side. She could see a gap between his chest armour which continued around his back, and the moulded metal protecting his hip and abdomen. Had she come for revenge against him? She was angry at the hunter for killing Robert and mutilating Gray, but Gray had already been dead and she couldn't be sure that this hunter was the one on the Saturn. Killing something just because it happened to belong to the same race was wrong. Even _if_ it was the same one, Trista knew she couldn't kill it now, she doubted if she ever could. Her blade rocketed back into her arm as she turned from the sparring aliens.

The hall was dead of noise other than the faltering hiss of the pierced Xenomorph. Trista knew that the chances of any Xenomorphs following Bennet and Trent would be slim, the hunter having destroyed most, if not all of them in the hall. She began to run back toward the exit, realising that she had made a mistake coming back.

She flew through the doors and into the corridor, jumping slightly as she saw the alien she had slain laying still on the floor. It wasn't long before she passed where she had left Bennet and Trent. She clenched her jaw tight, willing her shaking legs to keep going, to keep pushing forward. She tripped on a couple of steps as she ran down the stairs to the next level, crashing into the walls in order to keep herself upright. She remembered the route went past the Garbage Disposal Units and slowed as she approached the entrance to the vast rooms in which they were housed. As she went nearer, she could hear a heavy clucking sound in the room. Trista frowned. She had overheard Dave's conversation in the morgue, about how the GDU's only operated when in use. Trista's body ached and she wanted to be on the sentinel and far, far away from the Atlantic, but as the whine of machinery continued, her mind persuaded her of the possibility of survivors. Although this was a highly unlikely scenario, she didn't want to think she was responsible for more deaths due to ignorance or fear.

Not for the first time, she gave a long drawn out sigh. Trista's hand reached toward the base of her neck. She raised her eyebrows when bare clammy skin greeted her fingers and then groaned when she realised she must have lost her tooth necklace in the hall. She had treated the necklace as her good luck charm and felt a sense of emptiness without the reminder of past victories. Breathing deeply, she leaned her sweaty cheek against the cool hard wall and exhaled loudly before stepping forward to activate the entrance to the Waste Room.

She trod gently into a vast space, the size of a cathedral. It was as white and clinical as the rest of the station, bar the dark entrance to a warehouse at the far right, which had tendrils of soft dark material protruding from the black interior. Trista couldn't make out what the substance was from a distance but it looked like something she didn't want to be near. All the same, a shiver made its way down her spine and her brain screamed for her to get out. Just leave…but she couldn't.

She forced her eyes to scan the rest of the room. Along the sides of the massive walls were large metal boxes about eight feet long, four foot wide, stacked into towers. Each pod angled into a point at one end and had a hatch on its top and handles on either side. Trista looked at the waste disposal units. Fork lift suits stood like mechanical sentinels at each side of the four monolithic GDU's, essentially massive rectangular containers with a large circular metal door on the front and door panels to the exterior which when opened would jettison the rubbish and unwanted cargo toward the atmosphere of the planet below.

Her gaze moved to the first GDU, its heavy door opened inwards, and noticed the back of the fork lift suit beside it. One of its legs pulled back and clunked hard against the floor. She heard the telling snap of buckles and the whirr of its shoulder harness being pushed up. Trista watched patiently as the figure operating the machinery jumped out of the metallic suit and jolted round to face her.

Trista shook her head and sighed. She felt bile rising in her throat when all the questions that were pushed back in the midst of battle suddenly came flooding back. She felt as though she had been punched in the gut. It all fell into place: The dangerous route, the visit to the Armoury Unit and enquires into the workings of the garbage units.

She stared at the horrified face and said in a level tone: 'Max.'


	13. Face to Face

Chapter 13 Face to face.

'Come to rescue me Max?'

Max stared at Trista, his mouth open slightly.

'W-What are you doing here?' he stuttered.

Trista noticed he had his hand gripped around his pulse rifle. It wasn't aimed at her…yet. She would never believe that he would actually kill her, but then her belief system had recently been shattered. She craned her head to look into the gap between Max and the Forklift. Housed in the GDU were two pallets, the rest of the space empty.

'Asking you the same question. What's in the pods Max?'

Max hung his head and closed his eyes.

Trista gritted her teeth and continued 'Let me take a guess. Alien technology, the weapons from the Hunter in the morgue. The one you kept under your uniform. How did you distract Sam in the armory?' asked Trista, her voice barely a whisper.

Max refused to look at her. 'He went into the ammunitions bay. I went to the restricted section.'

'Which was coded, right?' Who gave you the code? Was it someone at the company…an outside interest….a rich alien artefact collector?' she snorted. 'How could you Max?'

Max shook his head slightly, his eyes still trained on the floor.

'ANSWER ME!' Trista yelled.

Max raised his gaze to Trista. 'I was contacted by a man in Colony HQ. I said 'No' Trista…but...'

'He offered you a price you couldn't refuse' she growled.

'You don't understand. Me and Alice, we're running behind on payments. The kids are asking for stuff we just can't afford. Do you know how much it costs to send them to the academies?'

'More than two deaths?'

Max looked at her, his eyes red and wet. 'Please...don't. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I…'

'You underestimated your enemy Max, like so many before you, like me.' Trista swallowed the bile rising from her stomach. 'You _did_ volunteer for this mission didn't you? That's why you were promoted, isn't it? Someone pulled the strings and brought you into contact with Bennet whose team had already been assigned. Is she in on it as well?'

Max shook his head. 'Only me,' he sighed.

Trista bowed her head. She felt her shoulders drop. She couldn't remember a time when she'd been more tired, more sick of living her life than she was right now. Her only friend, the one person she thought she knew, had betrayed her. Worse than that, he had the death of a soldier and a civilian on his head. She pitied him then, knowing that Max would have that thought weigh heavily on his conscience for the rest of his days. He made a mistake for the sake of his family – a whopping mistake and he would pay for it. A thought occurred to her then, another question. 'What's in the other pellet?'

Max turned to the GDU briefly. 'I don't know. I was told to send the _item_ along with pod 5420. I was told to put the alien technology in a separate vessel.' He turned back to Trista and saw the look on her face 'I swear I wasn't told what was in it…I…I didn't ask.'

'You didn't….' Trista threw her head back and laughed. Borne of frustration and disbelief, the laughter was automatic. She felt a heavy feeling pass through her bones. She had spent so much time fighting for survival because of what? So she could return to her box apartment and spend the rest of her life alone and trying to shake off nightmares? Did she fear death that much, that a living hell was preferable? She was the one who had underestimated everyone. She had trusted Max and had left everything else in control of the unseen, caught up in so much self-pity that every tweak of the spider's web passed her by unnoticed whilst she struggled blindly, waiting for her turn to be cocooned and now she was, by her own species no less. When the laughter had subsided, she lowered her head to see Max holding his gun aloft.

Her whole body jolted as the pulse rounds went off. She heard a squeal behind her and threw herself to the floor as the Xenomorph flew back. She looked up at Max as the smallest of smiles tweaked across his wet cheeks. In that moment her belief was restored. Max would always be her friend no matter what.

She began to right herself when she noticed a shadowy figure moving above the GDU, clambering atop the box, its head raised slightly above the bulb perched above the door. The reflection of light slipping down its ebony shell told her all she needed to know about the creature.

'Max…Look out!' she screamed.

Max turned to shoot at the Xeno and missed. The creature fell upon him, but a swift smack to its jaw with the rifle made it slide across the floor. It found its balance immediately and lunged at Max again. The impact pushed Max through the entrance of the GDU. Trista ran toward the unit on legs that ached and shook. She could see the Xeno scratching at Max's side, ripping through his uniform. She heard Max's screams, not of fear but of anger. As she approached the unit, she saw Max swing his rifle again. This time the creature slid far across the interior and smacked into the back panels. Trista saw the red light blip on, spinning and pulsing as the solid metal door automatically swung shut.

Trista flew against the door. The Xeno had set off the capacity sensors. A metallic voice gently intoned from the unit's speakers that there was thirty seconds till the unit purged its contents into space. Through the small toughened glass porthole, she could see Max struggle up off the floor. His gun lying by his side, he used his arm to keep the contents of his torn sides from slipping out. He fell against the inside of the door and gasped. He could see Trista looking in and faced her. Trista felt hot tears sting her face as he mouthed the words 'Tell Alice and the children I love them.'

Trista grabbed the handle of the door and used her metal arm to pull at the handle. The pressurized container wouldn't give. She punched into the door as hard as she could. It barely made a scratch. _Ten seconds._

'How do I stop it Max?' she screamed through the glass. She knew he couldn't hear her.

Max shook his head and gave his old friend a warm smile, one caked with blood and spittle.

'NO! Max, I can't…' Trista couldn't stop the tears any more than she could stop the machine. She could see the Xenomorph in her peripheral vision as it advanced behind Max. She wouldn't take her gaze off him though. She wanted him to know how sorry she was and that for all that had been said and done, he would always be her friend too. She hoped Max knew this as she knew he was always there in her heart. The creature lowered its grinning head and dropped its jaw to give way to its retractable inner mouth.

'I'm sorry' Max mouthed.

…_Purge_

The Xenomorph flew back, its mouth still poised for the fatal bite. Max followed. Trista turned away and fell to her knees. She retched but nothing would come out. The soft red pulsing glow on the floor stopped and she was alone. Her whole body shook as she quietly sobbed in the silent room. When she heard a scuttling sound behind her, she twisted and saw the parasite leap in the air.

It all happened in slow motion. The spidery limbs flailed past her face. Reflex action brought her hand up to grab. With both hands now firmly gripped on the end of its wriggling tail, Trista swung the parasite around in a circular motion at the edge of the GDU. She held the limp form for a second before pulling her shoulder back. As she hauled the dead creature into the darkness of the warehouse, she screamed from her gut. Her voice cracked with the strain before she fell to her knees.

What she hadn't expected was the louder scream that echoed back at her.

The sound was enough to call her reflexes into sharp focus. She lifted the pulse cannon from her side, her trigger finger poised as she peered into the black void at the side of the room. The tendrils that jutted out of the warehouse that was once still, twitched and Trista could see a deeper darkness move forward. She sidestepped toward the exit but kept her eyes on the warehouse. She knew what lurked in there. She had heard that sound before but had only seen its owner from a distance.

Trista prepared herself for the dubious honour of meeting Xenomorph royalty as three of her subjects edged out of the darkness first, two of which grasped the side of the walls with needle sharp talons and shimmered in the bright light of the spacious room. In the centre of the warehouse entrance, Trista saw the huge smiling jaw emerge. Its slow movement followed Trista's path toward the exit. The queen hissed and Trista heard the door to the right of her hiss back as though responding. There was nowhere to go. You either run or you fight and since the Xenomorph slinking through the door, had cut off her escape route and cancelled out the first option, there was only one thing left for Trista to do.

'For Max, your majesty' she growled, pulling the trigger.

**Many thanks to the wonderful Khalthar, who has taken on the role of Beta and as such will be making forthcoming chapters much more readable. **

**As always, thank you for reading. **


	14. Taking out the Trash

Chap 14 Taking out the Trash.

The blast from the cannon threatened to send Trista sprawling backwards, but she held fast, the aching muscles in her legs stiffening to keep her balanced. The menacing jaw of the queen moved sharply to the side as the light passed by, knocking down one of flanking Praetorians. The queen screeched as the warehouse lit up behind her. Trista caught sight of the organic mesh of the hive before the pulse took it apart, breaking into the resinous web and destroying whatever was contained within. The Queen was thrown forward into the bright light, her body a mass of thrashing limbs.

Trista scowled and took another shot at the grooved armoured frill which made up the majority of the Queen's head. This time, the drone edging away from the exit leapt in her defence and spiralled through the air hitting the hard wall with a crack. The Queen had been tugging forward and had fallen upon the floor in front of the entrance. She was up in a shot and ran toward Trista at a speed that was at odds with her bulk, emitting an ear piercing scream that turned Trista's blood cold. She aimed the cannon again.

_Well, it's now or never_, she thought. She pulled the trigger and steadied herself for the recoil that didn't come. She tried again – nothing. The subtle blip of a blue light marked the end of the cannon's energy. She dropped the weapon, squeezed her eyes shut and prepared for the impact.

Amongst the _thud, thud, thud_ of the Queen's charge, Trista was suddenly aware of a strange whistling sound. She opened her eyes in time to see a metallic flash slice into the side of the monolithic Xeno. The queen flew against the second GPU and hissed angrily, yanking out the jagged circular blade in its side with a monstrous clawed hand.

Trista turned her gaze to her right and saw the hunter standing in the doorway, its invisibility flickering off, his mottled arm falling onto another blade attached to his waist. Trista willed her legs to move and stumbled behind one of the Fork Lift suits. The queen was already on her feet, heading toward the new intruder. He stood fast and flung another blade at the creature. Trista gasped as she watched the queen duck out of aim and smash into the hunter sending him sprawling into the pods. The weapon made a sharp whizzing sound and then shuddered to a halt in the bay wall next to Trista.

The hunter was cornered and Trista's mind seemed in a haze. What could she do? She stepped out of her hiding place and took a few steps forward. She had to help the hunter or they would both die. Trista's breathing increased as panic started to set in. Something as large as the queen would never fall to the pitiful, blunted blade on her arm and she had no other weapons she could think of.

…except for one.

Trista fidgeted around her waist feeling for the distinct shape of the small weapon. In the corner of her eye, she saw one of the Praetorian guards run toward her, its spindly arms outstretched. She leapt out of its way and ran toward the nearest GDU. She glanced back and saw the creature sprinting toward her a second time. She pushed open the circular door and ran into the GPU. She felt the brush of a talon across her back as the Xenomorph flew in after her, missing its target by inches. Trista held tight to the edge of the door and swung in with it. She watched the Xeno skid fully into the unit before spinning around the door's edge. She grabbed the handle and pulled as hard as she could. The locking mechanism clamped into place. The Xeno was trapped. It flew against the door and smashed against the glass with its inner mouth. Trista stood and watched for a second.

'Come on…Smile for me you bastard!'

The Xeno opened its mouth to strike. Her wrist blade rocketed through the glass and into the creature's throat. Yellow splatter corroded the glass, melting it from the inside out leaving a gaping hole in the centre. The alien flew back and writhed on the floor in agony flailing back until it reached the sensors. As the red bulb blinked on and the familiar synthetic voice appeared, Trista punched her fist in the air and swung round to the queen brandishing the Whipper gun.

The Queen's tail slashed across the path of the hunter, but he was fast and managed to pull away from each strike. He gracefully dodged each attack from the queen, slicing at her body with his wrist blades when the opportunity arose, leaping and rolling out of reach and then driving back in to strike. He was too close to shoot from his shoulder cannon unless he wanted to become a melting puddle on the floor, but hand to hand combat was far more honorable and would be a story to tell.

She paused and whipped her tail up high, aiming its serrated end at the hunter. The tail snapped through the air and flew past the hunter's head causing him to leap sideways into her massive clawed hand. She gripped on tight.

Trista stood next to the broken window of the GDU. Memories of Max's last moments swam through her mind and she winced. She pushed a shaking finger at the Whipper's control panel, tapping in the required length for the shot, allowing for a lot of slack. 'I hope this works buddy' she whispered.

_Twenty seconds _

As large as the hunter was, it was nothing compared to the size and strength of the queen. His bladed gauntlet was trapped against his body in the grip of the monster's hand. Her lips parted as she hissed and snapped open her jaw. Her inner mouth was the size of the hunter's fist and poised in front of his mask. Trista wasn't sure if the mask would stop penetration, but she knew that its impact would probably break the hunter's neck.

_Ten seconds_

Trista aimed the Whipper at the back of the Queen's head and fired. The bullet cut and rotated through the air. It finally stopped its course as it burrowed into the queen and expanded into shards which kept it in place. The queen screamed in surprised rage, releasing the hunter. She twisted her head sharply to face Trista. Trista stared back hard at the Queen. She could feel her heart hammering from inside her chest as though she was experiencing a thousand nightmares at once. She pushed the recoil button and shoved the gun into the porthole. It flipped sideways and jammed against the inside of the door, pulling the screaming queen back, the wretched sound of her hind claws scraping against the floor sent pain shooting into Trista's ears. She stayed for as long as she dared next to the GDU, making sure the gun stayed put. In the last few seconds Trista dodged past the lunging queen, noticing the grooves in the floor as the bitches legs strained against the pull of the gun.

_Purge_

Trista felt the sensation of rising into the air. She looked to her side and saw the hunter's back legs rising up. As soon as the sensation came it was gone and the two hunters fell back to the floor, the pull of outside pressure having claimed the body of the queen. Trista looked over her shoulder and watched with tired eyes as the monster's mouth opened for the last time, her arms twitching for the briefest of moments. No scream escaped from its lips. Whatever sound there was flew from the Queen's collapsing midriff into the GDU. Trista heard the exit panels closing and breathed a massive sigh of relief as the red glow died.

She lay on the floor and tried to catch her breath, willing her heart to slow down. In one panicked moment she tried to remember if she'd been near any parasite eggs or if she had lost consciousness during any part of the mission. If felt like her chest was going to burst open at any given second. Eventually her pulse rate slowed and she felt a cool wave rush over her. It was over. There would be other times to be neurotic.

She groaned as she sat up, each of her muscles burning with pain. Not one part of her body was spared, even her ears felt as though they were about to drop off the side of her head. She looked over at the dead queen, its massive head pulled down toward her legs, most of her torso having been jettisoned into space or spread across the interior of the GDU. She almost felt sorry for the fallen mother but everyone and every _thing_ on this vessel knew it was kill or be killed. She watched as the Queen's acidic blood dripped from her wounds where it would start to eat through the metal and as solid as the GDU's were, even they couldn't compete with the aggressive body chemistry of the Xenos.

She used her metal arm to push her body up, her legs complaining at having to do the rest. She rubbed her temples and knew she was forgetting something…something important. The drawn out hiss directly behind her made her heart flip. It was too late to turn and fight. It would be quick, of that she had no doubt. A bullet to the head wouldn't be as effective. She then heard another hiss, and another and she suddenly realised what it was she had forgotten.

**A big thank you to my eagle-eyed Beta Khalthar.**


	15. The Tooth Fairy

Chapter 15 The Tooth Fairy.

Seeing the living face was far different than gaping with morbid fascination at the dead features of the hunter in the morgue. The subtle twitching of the mandibles made her stare longer than she would have liked. The exposed fangs and teeth of the creature opened and closed, it's wide, brown speckled jaws shifting back and forth as if trying to shake off stiffness. Trista's gaze lifted to the hunter's upper mandibles which jutted out sharp and high with small black spikes curling out of the creamy flesh like miniature sickles. It was his eyes that unnerved her most. Clear and round yellow sapphire's with tiny orange veins encircling the black pupil which stared directly back at Trista with intelligence and aggression. His brows were no more than evenly placed shards of wiry hair, similar to the ones at the side of his cheekbones and around his ridged forehead. He had two small scars on his forehead, which might have been a wound, but seemed unlikely. His brows suddenly pulled down and he blinked, slow and deliberate.

Trista was aware that her jaw was hanging. She closed it immediately not knowing if baring her teeth - even in a smile- could be a sign of aggression to the towering alien. He cocked his massive head to one side, drawing Trista's attention to the thick black dreadlocks banded with smooth metal rings which fell over his plated shoulder. She craned forward slightly to get a closer view of the rings but a low rumbling growl from the hunter stopped her from moving any further. Then the clicking started, punctuated with swift growls and heavy syllables made into words that made absolutely no sense to her. Trista watched in awe as the mandibles moved independently, fluctuating out and curling in as though the creature was gesturing along with the strange sounds he was making. His clawed hands clenched and unclenched during the frenzied chittering. Then silence.

Trista gave a terse shake of her head and pulled back when the creature roared and bent over to level his face to hers. She wrinkled her nose as the sharp, bitter odor from the hunter edged closer. She watched his gaze intently and saw the dark pupils fall upon her artificial arm. His brow creased again and in that moment Trista knew he was the creature responsible for it.

'The Saturn…Saturn' she whispered at him. 'You were there.' She pointed her finger accusingly at his chest and then pointed to her metal limb. 'You did this'

Trista wasn't as angry as she thought she would be. For many years she had been, but as time crept on she realised that without the bad experiences she wouldn't have survived as long as she had, even if they made her look like a patchwork doll. She bit her lip and clung to the semi-delusional hope that he wasn't directly responsible for the death of Robert, although in her heart she knew it was. She _should_ have felt furious but instead there was a part of her that was grateful that he had once spared her life, and now he had saved it for all that was worth.

The hunter stared at her arm for some time and then glanced at her face. Trista felt her neck relaxing just enough to allow her head to inch away slightly from the approaching clawed finger of the hunter. He persisted and when Trista's neck stuck fast, she felt the calloused skin run a trail down the side of her face, scraping across the ridge of her scar and across the acid burned skin. Trista realised she looked a hell of a lot different than the woman on the Saturn, but the arm must have sparked some recollection. He took his finger away from her skin, the black talon denting some of the scar as it lifted. He moved his hand across his body and slapped the gauntlet on his arm.

'Ki'cti-pa hmu'tcusa d'a pwei?'

Trista looked at the gauntlet and shook her head again. Was he referring to her arm? Maybe he was apologizing for cutting it off, though she doubted this.

His mandibles flared wide for a moment and then curled in.

'Ooman' he pointed at Trista 'Ki'cti-pa hmu'tcusa'. The hunter gripped his gauntlet with one hand and curled his fingers round the metal before releasing quickly and spreading both arms wide, his hands spread. 'd'a pwei' he span his head in different directions as though he was…

'Searching for something?' Oh. Trista gritted her teeth and hoped her answer would still leave her with some limbs left. The technology that Max had taken was probably entering the planet's atmosphere by now and the armored warrior had pointed directly at her when asking where it was.

Trista took a deep breath and took a step back from the hunter. She couldn't communicate his language but she still had hands. She pointed to the blades on his arm and then to the GDU. Next she snapped her forearm away in the direction of space. Feeling extremely stupid and desperately nervous she finally signed a circle with her fingers and then pointed downwards. The hunter regarded her for long seconds with one eyebrow cocked and then looked over to the GDU. He repeated the gestured circle and aimed one finger toward the floor.

'Tjic'ke?'

'Possibly' replied Trista, raising her eyebrows.

The hunter gave a soft growl which seemed to stick in his throat. His lower mandibles rubbed together, each claw clicking against the other. He swiftly turned and strode over to what was left of the queen. Trista turned to face the exit, still very aware that the Xenomorph's would be heading to the warehouse after hearing the battle cries of their-now departed- superior. She half glanced at the hunter who was standing in front of the Queen, covering the view of her loping head. Trista wasn't sure if the hunter had finished with her but that exit door was looking increasingly welcoming! When she heard a shuffling beside her, her reflexes were so quick that the hunter grunted in surprise.

Trista wrapped her metallic fingers around his wrist and thought about releasing the bulky arm until she saw the large fang between his clawed fingers. The pulpy base of the queen's fizzing incisor was aimed directly at her face. She felt the hunter's arm push forward. The unrelenting structure of her arm held fast, however the rest of her body was being pushed back across the floor, her boots squeaking resistance. She looked at the scar on the hunter's forehead and it occurred to her that it had been burnt in. She realized with some horror what he wanted to do.

'No thank you pal. I've enough scars on this pretty face to last a lifetime' she spat.

The hunter growled and peered at her with some amusement in his eyes. He continued pushing until Trista was trapped against the wall, her artificial limb still held straight ahead. Regardless of the creature's immense strength, Trista knew his arm wouldn't come much farther than it was. _Checkmate_, she thought. Her sly grin faded when the hunter grabbed the fang with his other hand. The pain on her forehead made her smack the back of her skull hard against the wall. She would never get used to being scorched with acid. It would have been a testimony to bravery to grin and bear it, but it hurt…a lot.

When she felt the pressure lift off her forehead, Trista opened her eyes and glared at the hunter. He grabbed her hand and dropped the tooth in her palm. He then proceeded to pull his finger across his neck, along small skulls, skeletal fingers and his own collection of teeth. Trista nodded. She wasn't sure if she would make another necklace of her own, only because that implied she would stupid enough to get involved with aliens again and she was just too tired for that. She'd gotten out of this little adventure by the skin of her teeth. She chuckled at the irony.

It was an awkward moment for Trista. She bit her lip and looked up at the hunter.

'Mmm, cheers!' She said.

The hunter gave another low growl; his hand falling to a pouch strung around his the metal panels around his hip. Trista heard a rattle and then everything went dark.

She blinked a couple of times in surprise as her vision disappeared with the light. It took a few long seconds before the emergency lighting went on. A dull green glow filled through the room but created fresh shadows behind the GDU's and the pod towers. With the amount of Xeno blood that was spilled, Trista was surprised that this hadn't happened sooner. She just hoped that whatever the blood in the hall had hit on its descent wasn't something that would end with a huge explosion. She'd had enough for one day.

Trista peered at the shadows again. It was easy to see a demon in every dark corner and that was enough to make her want to leave. It wouldn't be long before Commander Bennet, fearing the worst, would give orders for lift off.

When she turned to the Hunter, she could see his attention was diverted to a holographic image of the Station which had appeared out of his arm gauntlet. Trista saw the glowing blue lines representing each room and corridor and saw the bright pinpoints of light that moved throughout them. She didn't need to ask what they were and there looked to be hundreds. This was her cue to leave.

The Hunter had the same idea and both sped toward the exit, quickly turning in the corridor and running as fast as they could down the passageway. Trista's weary legs were no match for the hunter's long strides, but he would stop and look back to her, emitting a grunt which Trista knew was an order to hurry. She was surprised at this behaviour, but she guessed that her burning initiation made her his honorary team mate even though it might be temporary. At least she was still alive.

They were through the fifth door and Trista began to recognize the blood patterns and acid stains on the walls. She was on the right direction to the flight bay. The hunter dropped back behind her, his heavy footfalls a comforting sound in the low light. She could hear the sound of his smooth dreadlocks smacking against his armor as he kept turning his head; he was guarding the rear. Trista ignored the ache in her ankles and continued toward the pressure door. The sturdy structure bore familiar deep scratch marks on its surface. They were two thirds of the way now.

There were times in Trista's life where she had made mistakes and after all those past years of god-awful experiences she had focused on reducing the errors knowing that just one could mean death. However, she wasn't infallible and in one split second upon reaching the door, she knew she had made a bad mistake. She should never have turned to glance over her shoulder at the hunter as the door in front of her whirred open. That moment of self-criticism was gone now. Trista felt her body being hauled back with force as the Xeno's inner mouth punched forward. Her last memory before she slipped into unconsciousness was of a startling amount of pressure on the right side of her face. She remembered the off-white pallor of the floor and how it was being consumed by another more vibrant color. She remembered the roar and the trumpeting squeal. She remembered the pain and wondered if it was her last mistake.

Everything went dark.

* * *

><p><strong>Ki'cti-pa: double wrist blades.<strong>

**Ooman: Human**

***Tjic'ke: Planet **

***Hmu'tcusa: gauntlet technology **

***D'a pwei: Where/Where is it?**

***Indicates Yautja phrases/words that have been made up for purposes of the story. I have done some research online regarding Yautja language but was unable to find the words I needed. If the correct vocabulary is out there and I've missed it, please let me know either in the reviews or just send me a note. Much appreciated. **

**Thank you so much for the reviews GrayHuntress. It's wonderful to get feedback on the story so far. I'll be going back to edit the earlier chapters (pre-beta) at some point. As for Trista's arm blade, there is a bit of imitation going on there along with a healthy dose of irony. The blade is good for a few strikes but it will eventually need replacing.**

**And again many thanks to Khalthar for the edits and notes. I promise I'll give extra attention to that problematic word ;)**


	16. Lost and Found

Lost and Found

It was bleeding. The hard meat had attacked the Ooman. She had been distracted, not concentrating on what was in front of her. A trained warrior would never have been so careless. Regardless of that fact, she was still alive, that small female warrior he had met whilst seeking the Bad Blood. Even back then, he had witnessed the soft meat's glorious triumph against the Kainde Amedha and had seen her potential. If it had not been for the roar of the dishonoured one and the sound of more approaching soft meat, he could have easily repaired the damage.

He was surprised to see it here of all places. The soft, ugly face had changed. There were more scars, an honorable battle worn countenance that had been absent before. The female's arm had been replaced with a ridiculous mechanical tool, so simple and so favoured by their species, but the blade that was contained within amused him.

Vor'Ja checked his monitor and saw there were no more hard meat ahead. The one lying by his feet now posed him no problems. He retrieved a container from his hip pouch and kneeled before the female.

She had survived once before when he had thought she would die. Now she was chosen, marked as befitting a true warrior and she would survive again as long as breath was still in her body.

…

Trista heard a groan, drawn out and etched in pain. It sounded like her voice, but it seemed distant and strange as though it came from someone else's throat. She opened her eye and blinked at the flashes of green and electric red light which flickered into her sight at close intervals. Repetitive shudders beat through her body. She couldn't feel her arm. Where was her arm? Her jaw felt numb. She tried opening it and heard a scream of agony but the sound never passed her lips. She fell into darkness again.

…

Adam paced up and down the length of the Sentinel. His brother was seated at the far corner along with Dave. The children sat at either side of Trent, who was bandaged, sedated and harnessed into the seat. Adam clenched his jaw and walked to the end of the vessel and then back toward the hatch.

He looked out into the bay and saw Commander Bennet staring at the door. She had taken her helmet off and straggly, sweat-slicked black hair fell across her shoulders. Resting on her hip was a small pulse rifle – standard fare but enough to stop a Xenomorph attack. She swayed a little on her feet and violently shook her head in an attempt to chase away exhaustion. Legs shuffling further apart, she stood firm.

Adam walked down the ramp and headed toward the commander. He could only see her back but knew her eyes would remain focused on the bay doors. He gave a little cough as he approached.

'A few minutes more. I'm not giving up on them yet' said Bennet, her gaze trained straight ahead.

'If any of the Atlantic's main operating systems have been compromised, it could blow.' Adams voice was gentle. Bennet had hope, but it had been too long since they had seen Trista, too long since she reluctantly allowed a determined Max to go back for her.

Bennet closed her eyes and let out a long anguished sigh.

…..

Trista opened her eye and gasped. The right side of her face felt as though it was melting off. A burning pain ripped across her forehead and down the side of her face. She was floating. She saw doors fly by and smelled the distinct aroma of sweat and something else that she couldn't place. She caught the sight of black talons wrapped around her leg and felt a hot panting breath on the top of her head.

Not floating…carried.

Trista closed her eye and heard the angry shrieks of Xenomorphs in the distance.

….

Bennet turned and trod wearily toward the ramp. Her head jolted around as she heard the screams of the Xeno's. Adam looked at the bay doors and then at Bennet. They were getting closer. She caught Adam's pleading expression and squeezed her eyes shut as she heard the children whimpering inside the ship. There was no more time.

….

Trista felt muscles tense against her legs and her back. She was being lowered. The ground was hard but cool and momentarily distracted her from her burning face. With the little strength she had left, she twisted and pushed her aching cheek on the cold surface. She could see blue strips of light in the corner of her eye, they were familiar. She saw the pale glowing lines indicating rooms and corridors. She saw the many pinpoint dots of light contained in them.

She heard a soft blip and heard the clunk of metal on metal.

Trista twisted her neck slightly and looked up at the Hunter. He loomed above her, his mask turned toward the space behind where she lay. She wondered what he was looking at and wished she had the energy to find out; maybe part of her didn't want to know what it was so her eyelid lowered. She felt herself being raised off the floor again.

….

Bennet stood at the top of the ramp. Just one more command and her party would be away from the stench of death…safe from its clutches if just for this day. She turned to walk up the ramp into the Sentinel when she heard the gentle hiss of the bay doors opening behind her.

All of Bennet's muscles strained to attention as the hunter walked into the room, angling his head toward the Sentinel. He saw the commander and stopped his approach. Bennet stood stock still and stared at the creature. She heard a gasp within the cockpit and the telling rustle of weapons being taken up.

'Get back inside' Bennet hissed to Adam. 'Tell everyone to stay put. I mean it.'

Bennet moved slowly toward the alien. Her hand slowly moved to her hip where her gun rested but halted as she realised the body lying across the hunter's arms bore the unmistakeable form of Trista Crellin, her clothes had been soaked through with sweat, and blood. Blood was also covering most of her face and saturating her hair. Bennet took another step toward the hunter, her eyes blazing. Movement from Trista distracted the commander's accusing gaze and she blinked as she saw Trista's fist slowly open and close. Bennet exhaled and turned her attention back to the large hunter.

The commander was in a quandary. She desperately wanted to exact revenge on the thing for what it did to her team in the arboretum, but it bore no weapons that she could see and it here it was holding Trista in its arms, waiting. She had to make a choice.

She walked forward and stopped a few feet in front of it. Even with her small stature she lifted herself up on her toes slightly, hunching up her shoulders, trying to appear bigger before the beast. Up close, the hunter was massive, at least seven feet of muscular humanoid towering above her with a mask that was designed to intimidate as well as protect.

'What now?' she asked in a low voice.

Although the hunter's intentions seemed to be clear cut, Bennet remained cautious. Her time on the Atlantic had taught the commander that second guesses were an exercise in futility with this species.

Bennet stumbled back a step when it started to bend forward.

The hunter placed Trista upon the floor and straightened up, emitting a low steady growl as it did so. He glanced down at the injured woman and then regarded the human standing before him. He cocked his head to the side and stared curiously at the small female standing there, almost challenging in its stance and yet even smaller than the injured warrior at his feet. It was armed but its weapon was not unsheathed.

Vor'Ja had encountered many of this species before but still they perplexed him. In his experience there were a plethora of male and female distinctions throughout the alien worlds he had visited so far. He had claimed trophies from both sexes and regardless of physical differences –sometimes the females were larger- he had never understood why the females fought alongside the males in _this_ particular species. In his experience the females rule, bear progeny and nurture, but there seemed to be no clear distinction of this here. He rubbed his mandibles together under his mask knowing there would be other times to ponder this conundrum. For now, he swept his arm over the form of the fallen warrior and pointed to the human ship. The tall one seemed to understand this way of communication and so he hoped the small one would understand too.

Bennet frowned as the Hunter made a gesture with his arms and felt irked at the implication that she wouldn't know what to do with Trista. However, the vile screeching in the bay corridor caught both her and the hunter's attention and she moved forward toward her injured comrade. He jerked his head back at the small human and when she gave him the slightest of nods, the hunter turned and sprinted back through the bay doors. Not long after the doors hissed shut, pained squeals echoed through the walls.

They wouldn't have much time.

Bennet quickly kneeled down next to Trista. The blood covering her face seemed to pool around her right eye, the congealing fluid mixing with a strange light blue creamy substance that was smeared thickly upon the eye socket.

'Hey, Cre…Trista. Can you hear me? Are you alright?' She grabbed Trista's shoulder and gave it a little shake.

Trista groaned and opened her left eye. She looked directly at Bennet and frowned. She wasn't at all used to seeing the commander smile…especially not at her. 'You wouldn't believe the day I've had' she gasped. She felt the faintest of smiles creep across her face and then stopped as a shot of pain zipped across her eye, like needles scraping under her skin.

Bennet's smile widened. She turned to the Sentinel and yelled for a stretcher.

'Max went back for you. Do you know where he…?'

Trista shook her head. She avoided looking at the Commander's sorrowful expression- the pain of crying would be too much to bear. Instead, Trista closed her eye again and wondered where the hunter had gone. _Questions later_, whispered a voice in her head. She felt herself floating again and distantly heard faint, concerned voices. She recognised Adam's voice and drifted into unconsciousness. Safe.

Trista woke to the sound of chattering voices. She tried to lean forward but was restrained by the harness. She sat back again and felt the slight pressure of the bandage wrapped around her head. She gingerly touched the pad covering her eye and then recalled the sight of the Xenomorph's mouth as it flew into her face. She realised she would no longer have the use of her right eye, and if it wasn't for her hunter companion pulling her back, the snapping mouth have burrowed further until she was long past caring. He had saved her life yet again. It was almost embarrassing considering how little she had done for the hunter. She allowed herself the slightest of smiles, trying to keep the question of _why _he had saved her to the back of her mind. For some reason she couldn't quite place, she felt that the _mutual enemy_ explanation was lacking.

She bit her lip and rubbed the back of her neck. With a little rest her limbs had stopped aching although they still felt slightly numb, and now other parts of her body that had not been used for fight and flight started to niggle. She was almost relieved when the panicked voices in the cockpit caught her attention. Trista turned to look toward the front of the vessel, noting with a smile that Trent was still alive and very much asleep. She fumbled with the straps and gave a victorious grunt when they snapped open.

She wobbled up to the cockpit where most of the passengers were huddled, all leaning forward, every set of eyes on the ships radar. Trista stopped behind Bennet and looked over the woman's shoulder. The small screen panel showed a grid with a blot in the centre with a smaller blot edging toward it. Trista squinted. Her sight was still blurry.

'Show it on the screen Winters, I want to see what's going on' ordered Bennet to the pilot.

'What _is_ going on?' asked Trista in a hoarse voice, thoroughly confused by the commotion.

Bennet turned to her and frowned. 'You're supposed to be resting Crellin.'

'What can I say? The chance to piss you off is just too good an opportunity to ignore' replied Trista with a grin. 'So what is it?'

'We got a marker on another vessel in the vicinity, near the Atlantic. Could be _his_' Bennet explained.

'The hunter?' Trista was more confused than ever. Her mind was still fuzzy from the last few hours' events.

'Don't you remember him bringing you into the bay? Took a chance if you ask me' said Bennet, clenching her jaw. 'That signal there. It's a ship, not one of the Atlantic's. It must be his. After all, he couldn't just appear from nowhere onto the station.'

Trista grunted and nodded her head. The rear camera flickered up against the glass. Clear as day, the Atlantic popped into view, its entirety inhabiting the top left of the panel.

'There it is…Look' Sam pointed some way to the right of the station. Trista's sight began to focus and she saw a tiny white blob edge forward. Suddenly it turned and accelerated into deep space. With a small blip it was gone. The group stood silent and in some confusion until the first spot of white light appeared near the top of the space station.

Bennet inhaled a quick gulp of air, her eyes widening at the sight. 'Get us outta here!' she yelled forcefully.

No one had time to even think about getting back to their seats. The force of the ship's acceleration knocked the group onto the floor. Trista moved her arm in time to avoid smacking Sam with her metal knuckles, managing to strike the floor beside his ear instead. She couldn't hear the blast, no one would, but they all knew it was coming. She looked to her side and saw Bennet on top of Adam, one of her hands gripped around the rim of one of the seats. The team felt the first shockwave from the explosion slapping against the stern of the vessel. The kids held onto their seat harnesses, eyes closed, knuckles white. The second shockwave was stronger and punched the Sentinel forward. Trista and Sam slid past their empty chairs. Trista grabbed Trent's leg and held onto Sam. They stopped their momentum toward the back panels, Sam breathing a sigh of thanks as the ship gave a little wobble and then stabilised.

'We're clear' intoned Winters.

Trista released Trent's leg and struggled off the floor. As she rose, something dropped from her jacket pocket and fell into Sam's grasp. He gave a look of disgust at the item and proffered the item to Trista.

'I think this belongs to you.'

She reached out and wrapped the necklace around her metal fingers, the bony shards beckoning to her with a gruesome smile. Trista frowned and wondered how the hell it had gotten into her pocket. Her memory was returning in dribs and drabs and she was sure she had lost it in the Station's dance hall…where the hunter had remained before her return.

' 'course', she muttered.

A mumbling to the side of her distracted her attention and she glanced up at Trent, who was only just opening his eyes.

'What's going on?' he asked with a yawn.

Trista looked back at the Commander who returned her look and laughed.

'We're heading home, comrades' she said.

Settling herself back in her seat, Trista rolled each of the necklace's teeth between her fingers. Each one a reminder of what she had faced. Each one a memory of the hardship she'd managed to survive. Without thinking, she reached into her other pocket and retrieved _the_ tooth. It was a similar shape to the others, but its size was much more pronounced. She fondled the Queen's incisor for a few minutes and placed it back in her pocket again. When she got home it would be cleaned and sanded with a hole drilled near its bulky top, ready to take its place at the front of her necklace.

It wouldn't remind her so much of the Queen, or of Max, although they would always be in her thoughts, but of the Hunter who had saved her and that no matter what horror the future held in store, hope could always be found in the strangest of places and from the strangest of strangers no matter how aggressive they seemed.

Her head slumped back into the soft seat and by degrees she slowly fell asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Kainde Amedha: Xenomorphs.<strong>

**Big thank you to Khathlar, Beta Extraordinaire!**


	17. A parting Gift

A parting gift

Joseph peered at the small hand panel in front of him. He licked his lips and slid his finger across the screen. The amount of favors he had to call on to secure his place to the planet S18 Atlanta was numerous. Joseph's tenacity won him a place as advisor. Of course it did, there was no situation he couldn't talk his way into, no deal he couldn't secure. That was his gift besides his ability to research and dig deep. No one was clean; everyone had a price…or a secret. Now he was aboard a military vessel with a small collection of grunts. He glanced to his side and noticed drool slipping out of the mouth of a dozing Corporal.

_Disgusting_!

He switched off the console and placed it in his jacket pocket, his thoughts turning back to his meeting with Maxwell Howett. That was a man who had his smart head on and had agreed to listen to Joseph. He may not have had many secrets but in Joseph's experience people could always be bought and Mr. Howett had a price– quite a reasonable one too, considering the reward. Howett had sent Joseph vague co-ordinates to search for the items on the planets surface. It was an encrypted message and one that only Joseph was privy to. A civilian skin tag was placed in the pods along with the special items and jettisoned to the planet below which was planned perfectly for Joseph. The civilian tags were especially useful for arguing that survivors might be found on S18 and so would be worth the risk of sending out a rescue team. Now he was part of the team and anything that he found would be salvaged and claimed for the Weapons Division…easy. It was only a matter of time before it was his. Yes, Joseph had done his homework well.

Even better, communications from the Sentinel and the Talisman confirmed that the Xenomorph threat on the Atlantic was destroyed along with the Space Station. The report on the new alien threat – not the Xenomorphs- was something to look forward to when he got back. He had received some data from the Atlantic about the E.T. when they had discovered a partially destroyed ship carrying the dead entity. There was a bonus in the alien ships holder –namely Xenomorph eggs. Joseph had given the order for one of the eggs to be contained in a pod for transport to the Science Division in Section One; the rest could be left for the Station's Scientists. After all, it was their salvage, their reward and their secret that had died with them.

Joseph sniffed. Obviously they hadn't contained the parasites very well.

As for the weapons they had found on the humanoid creature. That would be for Joseph and Joseph only. Strict orders from the top brass at Military HQ issued containment procedures for the weapon. Of course, that was another favor called in, so many of the generals had secrets and Joseph kept files. He was promised a hefty reward for returning with the new technology.

Joseph looked back at the sleeping Corporal and his thoughts turned back to Max Howett. He had not been in contact with him since he jettisoned the valuable items to the planet below. Maybe he was dead? Joseph's eyes widened at the prospect of no further handouts to Howett's family and best of all, absolutely no ties leading back to him.

It seemed that Lady Luck was beaming her winning smile at him so far.

Joseph gave a little hiss when the ship jolted. He narrowed his eyes at the grinning commander – a beefy ape of a man who had all the charm of a rock.

The commander glared back at the thin man in the corner and widened his grin. He detested this _suit_ when he first caught sight of him-what was his name? Palin – that was it. He was sure it wasn't a name he would remember for the future, unless it was one to avoid. However, entertaining weasels was tolerated when double time was on the clock.

'Entering S19A's atmosphere now' intoned a bored voice from the cockpit. 'Make sure you're strapped in.'

The Commander watched as the thin man stared at his harness and jiggled it a bit, taking a deep breath as he did so. The man was a class 'A' moron. He gave brief shake of his head and waited for touchdown.

The planet was a rock, an over-sized, uninhabitable mouldy orange that was used as a skip for the Atlantic and nothing more. Joseph followed the Commander down the ramp and into the dusty, gale rocked world, tentatively taking a breath in his bio suit. He relaxed when the clean air filled his lungs. He had to be careful as the planet's air was essentially a toxic mixture of Nitrogen and Carbon Dioxide. He'd researched it. Any faults in his suit and Joseph could kiss his penthouse goodbye with a bug-eyed gasp.

He eyed the Commander carefully who stood up front with one of the Privates. They both stared at the tracker in the soldier's thick gloved grasp. Joseph heard a crackle inside his helmet and heard the private's tinny voice.

'Signal's North East, about forty meters.'

Excellent, thought Joseph. This should only take minutes.

'Well, let's go find our survivors' the Commander intoned, marching ahead.

Joseph scurried close behind. He was aware of four other soldiers behind him, each carrying standard issue fare for self defence. He was fairly certain they wouldn't need it but felt a lot safer sandwiched between the men with guns.

A few minutes of trudging against the wind, Joseph began to feel uncomfortably warm in his suit and recognised the slight claustrophobia that niggled at him. The swirling dust didn't help and made for poor visibility but as long as Joseph could see the padded white suits in front of him, then he would bear the heat.

It wasn't long before they approached the first pod. Joseph quickened his pace as best he could and halted just behind the Commander. The pod was white, sleek and long but scorched, scratched and racked with the planets signature ochre dust. Joseph grimaced as its shape brought to mind a coffin. It looked just like his fathers. He consciously took a step back when his imagination conjured up the Xenomorph parasite. There was detailed analysis about their speed from biologists at the Atlantic. He'd done his research. Joseph wasn't sure which pod contained what, but he sure as hell wasn't going to risk looking directly at an egg which could spring its gruesome jack in the box at any given moment. He'd let the Commander take that risk.

The length of the pod was scanned by a corporal who then shook his head at his commander.

'There's no civilian in here' he said into the communicator.

'What? Where's the tag?'

'It's in here Commander, but I'm reading no movement at all.'

'Shit, Okay.'

Joseph caught his breath. It must be the weapon. He was shaking with excitement as the commander activated the pod. Its ghostly white paneled doors gasped outwards sending grey green smoke billowing from the interior. The commander leaned over and wafted his gloved hands.

'What the _fuck_ is this?' he exclaimed.

Joseph looked down at the Xeno egg after the smoke cleared. The parasite inside was dead, of that he had no doubt. Whatever it was that had blasted through its cocoon made sure of that. Joseph hissed. It must have been Howett. Joseph made a fist. He should never have trusted a grunt.

'Let's check the other one' growled Joseph. It was the first time he had spoken whilst on this god awful planet.

The Commander stared at him and frowned. Joseph didn't care if the ape suspected something of him; he just wanted the damn weapon. 'If there are no survivors here, then I just want to go, okay?'

The commander nodded to the private who pointed to his left. 'The other pod's just over there.'

The group walked a little way into the dust and came to the second pod. Joseph gritted his teeth. It was impossible to tell if it had been tampered with.

'No life signs commander' said the corporal with a sigh.

'Open it' snapped Joseph. He stared directly at the pod. The egg wasn't a big deal, but _this _ensured a brighter future for him. It had to be there!

The doors sprang open, wafting the swirling yellowy brown ground dust in a different direction. It was Joseph who looked inside first, the commander looking over his shoulder. It was there! Joseph restrained doing a victory dance, the widening smile working its way across his sallow face.

'What is it…some kind of metal tube?' asked the private.

A gauntlet, thought Joseph. The one the Atlantic had found attached to the creature, the one that would make him rich. He said nothing.

'What are those red lights on it?' asked the commander.

Joseph grunted, his smile faltering for a second. In his excitement, he hadn't noticed the thin scarlet strips pulsating on the four small displays. Each set blinked for a moment, before the angular lines disappeared one by one. Once one set had blipped out of existence the next set repeated the same pattern. Joseph had no idea what they were. He'd certainly not read anything about red strips.

The commander frowned at the lights for a moment and as realization dawned, he shut his eyes. He'd been around long enough to know when a countdown sequence had been triggered. He gave a long distressed groan.

One set left, thought Joseph. He heard the Commander's reaction echo in his helmet. What the hell was his problem? Joseph turned his attention back to the gauntlet, becoming increasingly mesmerized with the lights. He wasn't a military man, but revelation finally flushed over him as the last two strips blinked.

He had wanted a brighter future. The last line was demonic diagonal red eye which winked at him before it disappeared.

'Oh'

Joseph Palin suddenly became a lot hotter in his suit.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, the finish line is close in sight. I hope that everyone remembers Joseph from the first chapter. Thank you for continuing to read, leave reviews etc... MrsTayla, I hope you feel better soon. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.<br>**

**Thanks again goes to the wonderful Khalthar for being a fantastic Beta.**


	18. Questions Unanswered

Questions unanswered

It had been two months since she'd heard anything from the survivors of the Atlantic. Trista had spent a lot of that time thinking about her comrades after they had docked safely at the base. The two children were taken into care and soon after were found a home with a new family. Trista had no doubts that there would be years of nightmares to keep them awake, but together they could push through the bad memories and create new, better ones, at least she hoped they could. Still…they were lucky to escape with their lives. All of them were, except Max. She had gone with Bennet to break the news to his wife, now a widow. That was one of the hardest moments Trista had to deal with after the Atlantic. Alice had hugged her and she responded in kind, keeping her prosthetic arm awkwardly to one side. There were no accusations from Alice, no questions about why Trista hadn't done more to save her husband. She didn't need to; Trista posed those same questions to herself day in, day out.

Sam had gone to live with his brother in New York, not far from where Trista lived, and although Adam hadn't had much contact with her since their adventure on the Atlantic, Sam had visited once or twice. He had become remarkably useful to her. His expertise in engineering bought in a request from Trista. Implants were common and a new optic disc with a few adjustments was all that was required, and Sam was more than willing to oblige. She was happy to be his pet project for the week and swiftly became the owner of an artificial eye – shaped like a thickset monocle and complete with night vision and infra red lens. The zoom capacity alone made it worth at least a thousand credits, but Sam had refused payment. He was helping a friend in need and enjoyed keeping busy with gadgets.

Trent was transferred to the burns unit once he was off the ship. His new arm was plain but practical, similar to Trista's prosthetic but without the blade. He remained with Section Security Forces under the command of Commander Elizabeth Bennet, whose experience on the Atlantic didn't deter her from military life at all, but simply made her more crotchety. Much to Trista's surprise, the Commander had kept in touch with her, although the calls were sporadic and terse. They weren't exactly bosom buddies now, but Trista appreciated any up to date information on the group and of course any other insider news that could be dredged up by Bennet. The last time she had spoken to Trista was to converse at length about the mystery of Dave Chezchnik. When the group had stepped off the Sentinal on arrival, they had each been taken to separate quarantine quarters. After two weeks of medical probing and what seemed like a waste of time by everybody, Dave was seen limping away with one of the medical officers to a restricted area which caused some alarm within the group. Bennet was the first to question one of the medics about Chezchnik's further containment and had no choice to accept the excuse that his leg had needed further medical attention. It had been many months since the last sighting and both Bennet and Trista struggled to a mutual agreement that Dave had probably slipped back into the murky civilian world. They had both wanted to believe that.

And that was it, all the information that Trista had accumulated. It seemed to be an anticlimactic end to a horrific journey but a part of her was quite thankful for that.

She ambled over to the synth unit and reached for the buttons. She stilled her hand and let it drop to her side. She'd had enough coffee this evening; maybe something a little stronger would raise her spirits? As she walked past the small window, she chanced a fleeting glance at the streets below and then wished she hadn't. Since most of the Human population where discovering new worlds, setting up colonies, manning stations and generally sweeping across the galaxy, Earth's cities and their inhabitants had become neglected. Water had become the fuel staple of choice for running Factories, Shuttle-Taxi's and anything else that required energy for the small amount of surface dwellers that remained on Earth. As a consequence, old buildings were collapsing from the damp and a wet mist sometimes enveloped the streets, giving everything a moist sheen. When the summer came the wet heat would chase everyone indoors, the humidity being too much to bear.

She fumbled around in her small safe, quickly finding the textured glass bottle containing her favourite medicine and retreated to her comfy seat. Stellar Brandy was hard to come by but it was worth the trudge to the dealers. There was little left and so she decided to forgo etiquette and simply drank the contents straight from the bottle. As the smooth liquid warmed her throat she sank deeper into the chair. Trista closed her eye and shut off her optical addition.

Her thoughts returned to the Hunter and she wondered if he'd found his species' technology upon the planet. Maybe that would be the last contact he and his race would have with humans. Trista smiled. It was nice to dream. She bolted upright as a bleeping emanated from her communication port, interrupted her doze.

Transmission pending from Section One

Transmission pending from Section One

'Go away' Trista growled at the console.

Transmission pending from…

'God damn it!' Trista lurched across her small apartment and walloped the pulsing button with her fist. 'Who is it? Whaddya want?'

'Were you sleeping?' asked a familiar voice from the speaker.

'Ahh, Bennet.' She was pleased to hear from the commander again although her voice implied otherwise. She had few friends, and a human voice was always welcome.' No, you didn't disturb me' Trista lied.

'Hmm, I'm sure I can rectify that,' replied Bennet in a deep voice. 'Just a snippet of news I thought you might be interested in.'

'You've got my attention.' Trista assumed it was a sighting of former GDU technician Dave.

'I managed to get hold of some classifieds regarding a ship that was sent out as a half-assed rescue mission to the S19Atanta. Remember, the Atlantic was stationed just outside its Atmosphere.' Bennet let the information hang in the air for a while. There was no response from Crellin and she continued. 'Apparently, someone at SSF got signals from a couple of Tag coordinates from the planet…'

Trista bit her lip. Whoever Max had been in contact with surely would have jumped at the chance to salvage the 'items'. It was horrifying enough to meet one of the hunters, and now her thoughts turned to a whole army of the things skimming across Earth or looting Space Stations in order to find what was rightfully theirs. She hoped whoever the bastard was, had returned empty handed.

'They went on the same day we returned' continued Bennet.

'That was five months ago!'

'Yep. Apparently they lost communication when they reached the planet.'

Trista groaned.

'Another party was sent to look for them. Guess what they found?'

'I'm not sure I want to know' replied Trista, surreptitiously turning on the Channel sixteen—the news channel.

'Not one goddamn thing. No ship, no crew…nothing, only a scorched crater a mile long. It was that thing, wasn't it?' said Bennet. The question was rhetorical.

'Mmmm.' Trista nodded and half watched the news screen.

'Look Crellin, if you know something and you're not telling…Some of the guys who went there, I knew them, men with families, Crellin.'

'Why the hell would I know what's going on?' sighed Trista.

She watched the screen as a tribal clan from Lincoln 5 came into view. Their appearances were humanoid with the exception of sinewy elongated limbs that tapered into seven digits per hand and a face that housed massive almond shaped eyes. The newscasters had been showing a quasi-documentary on the species since they had been discovered some months ago. It was one of those new reality programs, with the nosy humans recording alien peoples who would continue to remain unaware that they were being feverishly watched and studied by an advanced race. Trista remembered that they were nocturnal and that they hunted for food and on occasion—pleasure. Frankly, she didn't have an interest in being a scientific voyeur at all and so had only caught snippets of their life on the rare occasion she would watch the Uni-screen, usually when there was nothing else on.

'You were with that thing for some time. Are you telling me you didn't try to communicate with it?' argued Bennet.

Trista manually turned the volume up on the screen. She hoped that Bennet would get the hint and truncate the conversation.

'No, I told you he found me after the Xeno attack. He saved me, I don't know. I really don't.' said Trista. Part of that was true. She thought that Bennet only needed to know so much. She trusted her to a point but she was still part of the company that went to such lengths to steal alien hardware. She still didn't understand why her life was spared by the hands of the hunter. At the very least he could have left her there to die. Trista liked to think it was an honourable action by the creature, maybe a gesture of thanks for coming to his aid in the dance hall, or perhaps it was simply that they both shared a common enemy in the form of the Xenomorphs. She lifted her finger to the mark on her forehead and traced the rough-edged circular scar. Once she was off the Sentinel and had the chance to peruse the new scars on her face, she noticed that the mark the hunter had given her was not the same as the one he carried on his forehead—in fact they were very dissimilar. She felt a pain in the back of her neck and started to massage the area. It felt like she was growing a boil or something. _Typical._

_The North Tribe have their prey in their sights and crouch low and still to avoid detection. From what we've gathered so far, they hunt to survive, although on certain months they will gather together in one large hunting party… _

'Look, Bennet. I honestly know nothing. I'm just sick of being reminded that we were ever at the Atlantic.' She breathed a heavy sigh; almost echoing Bennet's and then decided to change the subject. 'Any news on Dave?'

Bennet was prepared for the manipulation. 'No. He hasn't been seen. If I find out that you've been keeping information from me, I'll…'

'Oh, get in the queue and harden up, woman. I've plenty of people who want to rip the flesh off my bones, debtors included. You'll have to take a number' purred Trista. She'd forgotten how much fun it was to wind up Eliza. She heard the commander snort.

_The prey that is hardest to hunt, the "Roona Tastra", usually the stronger and more evasive animals are spared from the hunt …_

'Fine, I can wait' replied Bennet softly. 'Right, I have to go. I'll let you know if I come across something juicy. Strictly Quid Pro Quo you understand. If you hear anything…anything at all, you let me know, alright?'

_They are captured, branded with laser irons and set free…_

'Not a…probl-um...' Trista's voice trailed off when she saw the North Tribe crouch behind a row of bushes.

'Right, I'll let you go to do whatever you were doing when I disturbed you' said Bennet in a petulant voice.

'Sorry, yeah…um. Thanks, Eliza. I'll let you know if anything…'

_leaving the stronger animals for the big annual hunt, which the entire tribe engages in. _

'…comes up…Goodbye.'

Trista watched as hordes of the tribes' hunters swathed through the strongest of the branded predatory animals. Careful editing omitted the more gruesome battles but the death blows could be imagined without the sight of blood. She gulped down the last remnants of Brandy, knowing that even it would struggle to warm the bitter cold that suddenly crept through her flesh. She switched of the set, and turned her false eye on, knowing that it would be a while before she disengaged it.

Trista gently placed the empty bottle on the floor and rested back into her seat. She jolted as a single loud bleep came from the comms console.

_End of Transmission_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So that was the last chapter of this story. I sincerely hope you've enjoyed reading and a big thank you for those who have read, reviewed and generally kept me going with this story. **

**Much gratitude goes to Beta Khalthar, who kept me on my toes and has done an exceptional job of editing. Really appreciate that! Also, a big shout out to GrayHuntress whose support was very much appreciated! **

**I have a sequel in mind, but it's in the initial stages. For now I'll allow my imagination to gear up and hopefully get something posted in the near future. **

**Cheers! **


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